


For Better or For Worse

by TheSecretAdmirer



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-05-21 02:38:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecretAdmirer/pseuds/TheSecretAdmirer
Summary: Modern AU originally written for the four word prompt "Great. Perfect. Nice. Fuck this."On the eve of Rhys and Feyre's wedding at a luxury resort in Big Sur, California, Azriel--now a successful furniture designer in LA--decides to swallow his pride and finally make his move with Elain. However, if he wants her attention, he's going to have to win it from her douchebag boyfriend, Graysen.





	1. The Day Before

If there were two things Azriel Macar hated, it was asking for favors and people prying into his personal life, so as he sat in front of the shi-shi resort in Big Sur, the irony of his purpose for being there was not lost on him.

Not only was he about to ask that irritating prick Vanserra for help, Azriel was all but inviting Lucien into him private business. Under any other circumstances, either one of those things would have been enough to dissuade Az from going inside. However, the wedding was tomorrow, and he was out of options. If ever they were an occasion to swallow his pride, he was pretty sure it was now.

He remained in the car for another minute, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he debated. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, though; he didn’t get up at six am and make the drive from LA just to sit here and twiddle his thumbs.

Finally, he glanced at his watch and got out, wondering for a moment if the hotel bar would be open yet before fetching the carefully wrapped chandelier from his trunk and flicking the keys to the valet.

The place was full of what were clearly preparations for the ceremony tomorrow, and he was glad for it; it made his showing up here less suspicious. Though, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. The minute he started asking questions, he knew Lucien would puzzle out why he’d come and tear the mickey out of him for it.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Azriel pushed his sunglasses into his hair and glanced at the girl bobbing behind the reception desk.

“Lucien Vanserra?”

She opened her mouth before closing it, her eyes going over his shoulder in answer.

“Macar, you must need a new watch. You’re…” Azriel turned on a booted heel, trying not to react as Lucien consulted his own sickeningly-lavish timepiece “Six hours early.“

He gave Azriel a lazy grin, the kind that always made Az want to punch him.

Reminding himself to keep it cordial, at least to start, Azriel shrugged and said, “I was dropping off the arbor.”

Azriel had built Feyre and Rhys a bespoke arbor from California cedar for their rustic—if wedding held at a resort that cost $1,300 a night could ever be considered rustic—nuptials in the redwood forest that yawned out behind the hotel.

“What?” Lucien said dryly. “In your two-door Benz?”

Azriel only pursed his lips as Lucien eyed him gleefully. The younger man had an uncanny knack for spotting a lie and a seemingly insatiable thirst for gossip, both of which set Azriel’s teeth on edge.

“You’re full of shit,” Lucien observed, eyes still keen. “Your guys dropped it off yesterday.”

Azriel held up the chandelier—which would be attached to the arbor for the ceremony— in answer, and Lucien rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling faintly.

“You drove six hours through LA traffic to drop off a glorified lamp?”

“This thing is baccarat crystal, you uncultured dick,” Azriel snapped, and Lucien rolled his eyes again, gesturing to the left with his chin.

“We can store it in my office until the light guy gets here tomorrow morning.”

Azriel followed Lucien up the grand staircase, helping him to carefully get it settled in the walk-in safe before watching Vanserra slouch into the chair behind his desk.

Not sure how to go about finding out what he’d come here for, Azriel braced his hands on the supple leather chair across from Lucien, surveying the view of the pool and forest beyond that was visible through the large window.

“I can’t believe you bought this place,” Azriel remarked, aware that his tone was a little south of friendly.

Lucien only laughed.

“My dad bought it; I’m just getting it off the ground. And that’s pretty rich, coming from the dude who build Beyoncé’s dining room table.”

Azriel flushed. Maybe it was a consequence of growing up poor in a part of the country where flashing wealth was considered a mortal sin, but name-dropping and talking about money always made him uncomfortable.

He’d certainly acquired a taste for the finer things since his design shop had gotten successful, but he didn’t see what joy there was to be gained from bragging about it all the time. Besides, there wasn’t really a need: the Masarati parked in his garage back in LA was more than happy to do it for him.

“What’s this about?” Lucien said, the shadow of that knowing smirk still faintly visible on his face, even though he wasn’t currently smiling. “No offense, Macar, but I really don’t have time for your ‘Man of the People’ routine today, and I know you didn’t get here half a day before the rehearsal dinner just to drop off that stupid chandelier, bacca-ra-ra crystal or not.”

“Baccarat,” Azriel corrected, and Lucien rolled his eyes. “And I didn’t get the frame finished before my guys left with the truck yesterday. I just wanted to make sure it got here okay.”

Lucien surveyed him with a critical eye before shrugging.

“So we’re good? Great, I’ll get Jessica to check you in, then. I assume you’ll want to go to do push-ups or scowl in the mirror or whatever it is you do for fun, considering  _you have six hours before the rehearsal starts_.”

Lucien started out of his chair, and Azriel tensed, making the former smirk.

“I thought so,” he crowed, dark eyes glittering. “I know what you want to ask me, so go ahead: ask me.”

Azriel only clenched his jaw in response. Jesus, this was such a dumb idea. He should have just taken his chances and gone to Palo Alto. Hell, even gone to Feyre, annoying as her meddling could sometimes be. Anything to avoid that smug, shit-eating grin that had begun to spread across Lucien’s face.

“Fine,” Lucien said, clearly enjoying every second of Azriel’s discomfort. “I’ll go first: you want to know if Elain’s bringing someone tonight.”

Azriel only crossed his arms, and Lucien laughed.

“I knew it!” he said, banging his fist on the table. “I  _knew_  you had the hots for her! Man, you are so fucking transparent.”

Azriel rolled his eyes.

“What do you want, a medal?”

“That’s alright,” Lucien practically cooed. “Watching you squirm is prize enough.”

“Cut the shit,” Azriel said, patience waning. Please god let her be single again. He wasn’t sure he could handle having sacrificed this much of his pride for nothing. “Is she bringing anyone?”

Azriel hadn’t seen Elain since she’d gone back to grad school at Stanford a month ago; that was more than enough time for some other guy to slide in and try and sweep her off her feet. His only saving grace was the fact Elain was not easily wooed. It was one of the many things Azriel found so alluring about her; she was quietly but fiercely independent, and self-possessed in a way most twenty-four year olds weren’t.

Lucien only shrugged.

“How should I know?”

“She’s your best friend; don’t pretend she doesn’t tell you everything.”

Lucien pursed his lips this time, clearly slipping into his long-held role as gatekeeper to Elain’s highly-sought after affections.

“Say what you really mean: you want to know if she’s back with Graysen.”

Okay, yes, that  _was_  what Azriel wanted to know, though he didn’t admit as much out loud. Graysen Van Baas, for all this faults, always seemed the dog to beat in the fight for Elain’s attention. None of their friends could really figure out why—he was a grade-A douche—but Elain had been dating him on-and-off since college, and had even turned down a scholarship at the Department of Art History at Yale to follow him to Stanford instead. Graysen was a second year law student there, a fact he felt the need to remind them of with sickeningly frequency.

For the three years, Elain and Graysen had been in a constant cycle of breaking up and getting back together, much to everyone’s chagrin. The last time she’d brought him down to have dinner in LA, Cassian ended up having to drag a snarling Nesta out of the restaurant to avoid a scene. According to Cassian, it had taken dirty sex in the back of their Land Rover and a new Michael Kors handbag to convince Nesta not to drive up to Palo Alto and kill Graysen in his sleep.

“Well?” Azriel prompted, giving Lucien a deadpan look that Lucien rather impressively matched.

“Not that I know of.”

“Not that you know of?” Azriel repeated, and this time, Lucien did stop smiling.

“Elain and I had to make a ‘No Graysen talk’ policy for the sake of our friendship.”

“So you have no idea if she’s bringing him or not?” Azriel said, and Lucien gave another shrug.

Well wasn’t that just fucking fantastic.

Azriel waited for Lucien to continue, but he didn’t, much to Azriel’s mounting annoyance.

“Vanserra, I don’t have time for your dramatic timing or your bullshit. Just tell me if you think she’s going to bring Graysen or not.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucien said. "She’s pretty garbage at hiding when she’d seeing him again, and she was very upbeat when I talked to her last week, which tends to mean that she is—blessedly—single again. I also haven’t heart her mention him once, though—” Lucien paused to give Azriel a vulpine smirk. “She does seem to find plenty of ways to casually bring  _you_  up in conversation.”

Lucien put on an affection of Elain’s sweet, sing-song voice and continued, “'How’s Az doing? Did you know that Gwyneth Paltrow bought one of those reclaimed accent tables Az makes? What day’s Az coming up for the wedding, do you know? Did you read that article about Az’s designs in—’”

“You better not be fucking with me,” Azriel interrupted in a low voice. His heart was beating so hard he could feel like in his throat.

Lucien’s mouth tightened.

“Look, I know you and I aren’t exactly friends—though please know I would take you over Cassian or Rhys any day of the week—but Elain has been my best friend for ten years, and I love her more than anything. I would never fuck with her happiness, and I certainly wouldn’t send some surly dude after her if I didn’t think she wasn’t at least open to the possibility. Do with that information what you will.”

“A charming sentiment,” Azriel said, already miles away from the conversation. He needed to call Cash. He and Nesta were meant to pick Elain up from Palo Alto on their way down from San Francisco. It was nearly impossible to convince Nesta Archeron to change her plans once they’d been made, so Azriel would need to buy Cash as much time as possible to bribe her into agreeing. Hopefully this time, Cassian would leave out the logistics; Azriel had heard enough details about their sex life to last a lifetime.

“Excellent,” Lucien said. “Well now that that’s settled, I have actual work to do. Are you going to stay here, or—“

“No, I’m leaving,” Azriel said, check his watch. It was noon already—he needed to get on the road.

“Are you seriously driving down to Palo Alto right now?” Lucien said, seemingly amused. “Damn, son, I hope your boss is reimbursing you for mileage.”

“Stay out of my business,” Azriel said curtly, seeing no point to being polite now that he’d gotten what he came for. “And don’t ever call me ‘son’, again.”

“No?” Lucien goaded. “What about Daddy?”

“Vanserra,” Azriel said, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for patience. “Don’t make me kill you.”

“Oh please,” Lucien said, kicking his feet off the desk. “You’d never do that to Elain. And you owe me, by the way. Maybe you could tell Mor—“

“She has a serious girlfriend,” Azriel cut off, “But I will put in a good word with her cousin Jesminda—apparently she’d got a thing for gingers.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, though Azriel could tell he was secretly pleased with the prospect of Jes’s attention.

“See you this evening, then,” Lucien said in dismissal. “Please, do not feel the need hurry back.”

Azriel flipped him a foul hand gesture and sauntered out, reminding himself not to seem to eager on the trip back to his car. Once in it though, he put the petal to the floor, letting his new E-Class purr into fifth gear and linger. It was then he  called Cassian.

“What’s up, bro?” came the answer after three rings.

“Hey, have you and Nesta left to pick Elain up yet?”

“No, she called earlier and said she’d had some breakthrough on something with her paper, and that she’d just meet us there. Why?”

Azriel gripped the wheel a little harder, bracing for impending impact with Cassian’s needling wit.

“No reason.”

Cassian only laughed in response.

“You’re driving up to Palo Alto, aren’t you?” he said mirthfully. “Man, you have it  _bad_.”

“Fuck off.”

“Damn, Feyre’s gonna be so smug; she bet you would make your move before the rehearsal dinner. I had you waiting until the reception! Where’s the heads-up, brother?”

“Feyre knows?” Azriel demanded, feeling his cheek warm slightly. "I told you not to tell her. And stop betting on my love life; it freaks me out.”

“I didn’t tell her, Nesta did. And before you bite my head off, I didn’t tell Nesta, either. She just figured it out. Also, don’t be so uptight; stress can cause impotence, and trust me, you don’t want to start this Elain thing off with a limp dick.”

“Christ,” Azriel said, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Please stop. And just keep Nesta’s phone away from her for a few hours. I don’t need Feyre waiting on the front steps like a welcoming committee.”

“Tough ask, my man. The only way to keep her that distracted is to—“

“Goodbye Cash,” Azriel said with emphasis. “See you in a bit.”

“Go get ‘em, champ,” Cassian cooed, and Azriel grit his teeth in annoyance before ending the call.

It was about a two hour drive down to Palo Alto, and Azriel spent the entirety of it wondering the best way to handle the situation.

It felt rather abrupt to simply confess himself the minute she opened the door, but given how well—or rather, how poorly—the subtly angle had played so far, he didn’t feel like he could rule it out entirely.

By San Jose, he’d run through ever possible iteration of their conversation, ranging from doing nothing to just kissing before she had a chance to speak. He found all the speculation was just making me more agitated, so he permitted himself to daydream about what she might wear instead.

Unlike her elder sister, Elain wasn’t usually one for dressing up, but when she did, it was always to devastating effect.  Azriel thought of the tantalizing little cocktail dress she’d worn to Cash’s 30th birthday in July and bit his lip; she’d looked good enough to eat that night.

Though, Azriel mused, that wasn’t the Elain he liked best. He preferred her usual style, her quirky overalls and graphic tees, that long braid forever swinging behind her as she laughed or talked animatedly about Cinquecento Rome and the artistic milieu of the Papal Courts—the topic of her Masters thesis.

Fuck, he should have done this  _months_  ago. He should have done it the moment she broke up with Graysen at the beginning of the summer, or that day they’d watched the sunset together over Golden Gate park after the dinner to celebrate Nesta’s latest win in court.

Sitting on the hood of the Benz that night, he’d wanted to,  _so_  badly. But watching her with her knees tucked to her chest like she was a little girl while she explained all the constellations as they emerged, he hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment. Besides, she’d only just broke things off with Graysen the week before, and he hadn’t wanted her to think he was taking advantage of her.

He should have just done it, though; should have explained that it wasn’t about her breakup, and that he’d fallen for her the moment he met her, and had  continued to fall with every new thing he learned about her. It was true she was gorgeous, but somehow, that was the least alluring thing about her.

Swearing to himself, Azriel pulled up in front of Elain’s quaint bungalow and parked, drumming on the steering wheel again to try and dispel the nerves. He really wished he still had that bottle of Jamo in the glove box; he really could have used it right now. Instead he just took a deep breath, glancing in the rearview to inspect his hair and run a hand through it before getting out of a the car.

Right, he could do this. As Lucien had so tacklessly pointed out, he’d been personally invited into Beyoncé’s house before; if he could keep his shit together for that, he could be cool about this.

He would just be casual, friendly. They had the whole drive up to chat—there was no reason to blurt it all out now. Besides, why explain he was basically in love with her on her front porch when he could do it as they drove down the breathtaking California coast?

He blew out another breath and knocked, fumbling a bit for what to do with his hands before leaning in what he hoped was a casual way on the doorframe. Women liked when guys leaned on things, right?

He listened to the door click, and he pressed his nose to his shoulder to quickly insure the cologne he’d put on that morning was still fresh before the door swung in.

Elain appeared, and his heart stuttered a step. She looked as gorgeous as he’d ever seen her, and it honestly made it hard for him to breathe.

“Hey Ellie,” he managed, pushing sunglasses into his hair and grinning the way he only ever had an urge to when she was around.

“Az,” she said in delighted surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, grin widening a little.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, and she laughed, her teeth bright against her rose pink lips.

Az tried not the check her out as she did, but she was perfection in the pink tulle cocktail dress she wore, and my  _God_ did her tits look amazing. He’d promised himself before he got here he wouldn’t look at them, but the dress was cut nearly to her sternum, and there was truly no  _not_  looking. Az had always been—if such a thing wasn’t too ungentlemanly to admit—a breast man, and hers were without equal. Still, they had nothing on the intelligent, merry glimmer in her doe brown eyes, which had him falling just that little farther in love when she met his eye.

“From LA?” Elain teased, craning her neck to grin at him and fisting a hand in his shirt at the hip as she did.

Ordinarily he didn’t like to be touched without provocation, but Elain was a tactile person, and he’d come to crave her calming touches, even knowing they were completely platonic.

He flicked her nose in answer, and she batted him away, laughing.

"Cash mentioned that you were driving yourself down,” Azriel explained, wishing he could invent another reason to touch her again. “And since we all know there is only about a fifty percent chance Jafar can actually make it that far, I’d thought I’d see if you wanted a ride.”

Jafar was Elain’s embattled ’87 beetle, so-named for his villainous predilection for losing A/C in the summer.

Elain laughed again before biting her lip, her expression going penitent.

“I wish you’d called,” she said, frowning now.

Oh no. Azriel knew that look; it was the one she always gave saps at the bar when she wanted to let them down easy.

“Are you that deadset on taking Jafar?” Azriel teased, desperately trying to right the ship. “You still haven’t replaced the radio from when it got ripped out.”

Elain laughed.

“No, fuck Jafar. You know I’d much rather ride in the Benz and hang out with you. It’s just—” she broke off, wincing a little now, too. “Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” he said, but he knew what was coming next, and he was already so mad her could barely keep from blurting a very impolite swear word, one that rhymed with both “duck” and “truck”.

“Graysen’s on his way to pick me up right now.”

Azriel felt his shoulders falling in obvious disappointment, and he caught them with effort, his traps aching with the stain of not letting them slump.

“You’re seeing Graysen again?” he forced out, still straining to sound conversational.

She blushed a little. At least she wasn’t oblivious to how much they all disliked him.

“We got back together last week.”

“Great,” he said, running a hand through his hair for something to do. “Well that’s..perfect. Nice.”

He glanced down at her, at the sweet dolefulness in her expression, before squeezing his eyes shut and blurting, “no actually, fuck this. Ellie,  _please_  don’t bring that dick to your sister’s wedding.”

Elain pursed her lips and turned away from the door, and Azriel took it as a silent invitation, following her in and closing it behind him.

“Please,” she said, biting her lip again. God, he wanted to do the same so badly in hurt. “I’m already going to get enough crap from Nesta and Luc; I don’t need it from you, too.”

“Well tough shit, because you’re getting it.”

She crossed her arms somewhat defensively, and he softened.

"C’mon, El, we all know how this ends, and honestly, you could do so much better.”

“You don’t even know him,” she said. “And I realize you and Cash and Rhys love playing big brother, but I’m not some little teenager you have to look after. I’m a grown-up, and I’m fine. ”

He groaned in agitation, wondering how this had gotten off the rails so quickly.

“You’re not like a little sister,” he said, wanting to be sure it had been stated for the record. “At least not to me.”

He hoped in vain she would read between the lines and get what he was trying to tell her. Understandably, she didn’t, and she just rolled her eyes.

“So you’re telling me you drove two hours out of your way just to see if I wanted company?”

Yes, that was  _exactly_  what he was telling her. Before he could debate the merits of saying this out loud, she narrowed her eyes and continued.

"I know my sisters sent you to spy on me after I cancelled on Nesta.”

He groaned again. They had to get out of this “family drama” zone before he got branded as an overbearing older brother for all eternity.

“Jesus, Ellie, that is  _not_  what this is.”

“Okay,” she said somewhat hotly. “Then what is it?”

Azriel fumbled for the words, but he’d always been man of action over eloquence, so he advanced to gently cup her cheeks instead, hoping she didn’t slap him as he kissed her.

Her lips were so soft he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and at this close distance, he found himself inundated with her pretty floral perfume. However, after a second her lips were still tight under his, and hating himself for forcing the kiss on her, he jerked back.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” he began in a panic, beginning to back away. “Ellie, I—“

He didn’t get far in his doleful retreat. She had a hand in his t-shirt before he could even blink, and suddenly she was the one kissing him. He thought to question it, but didn’t, simply wrapped a hand around her back to steady her so he could get a proper taste. She’d obviously just brushed her teeth, and her breath was fresh as she opened her mouth so her tongue could touch his.

The left-brain part of him was distantly screaming at him as they continued to kiss, demanding he parse through the events that had lead them to this point so he could make sense of it. The rest of him didn’t care. He didn’t care that her dumb ass ex boyfriend was still on his way over here, or that he had no idea what it meant that she’d kissed him back. All he cared about was that she had.

He moaned when her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt to ran down his back. Not to seduce, he realized, but simply to feel his warmth against her own and ground them more solidly in the moment. He melted into her touch, suddenly struck by the feeling that after 29 years of wandering the Earth like a gypsy, he’d finally found a place safe enough to call home.

The dizzying delight of it made him slightly unstable, and they careened backward, his hand bracing on the wall and caging her to it as they continued to kiss. He groaned as she let her hands slip out of his shirt so she could run her fingers through his hair, knocking his sunglasses to the ground as she tugged on the strands, her teeth echoing the motion on his bottom lip.

He was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t hear the bugle of the camero’s engine as it trumpeted into the driveway, and it was only when someone knocked on the door that he realized Graysen had arrived.

“Babe? Are you ready? Let’s go.”

Elain stiffened, and she and Azriel shared a look.

“ _Just don’t answer it_ ,” he mouthed, but he felt his stomach twisted into a grotesque double windsor as she flashed him penitent look, pushing gently on his chest and eying her overnight bag where it sat packed near the door.

No, this could not be happening. There was no way this was actually happening.

Except it was.

Elain slipped from beneath his arm and called, “Umm, be right there!”

“You said 2:00,” Graysen called back. “It’s 2:07. Hurry up, please.”

Azriel watched in horror as Elain smoothed her hair before gathering her things.

“ _Elain_ ,” he hissed, but she shook her head, still looking—despite the royal screwing she was about to give him—like the girl of his dreams, the one he’d been in love with for two years.

“ _I’m so sorry, Az_ ,” she said in the same tone, giving him a sympathetic frown as she touched his cheek. “ _I just can’t_.“

“ _Wait_ _, Elain_ —“

He reached for her wrist to hold her there, but it was too late. She was wrenching open the door, and Azriel had no choice but to listen as she kissed Graysen, still flattened to the wall like a teenager trying not to get caught. He only dared move when he heard the Camero pulling off down the street, staring at the door in mild devastation as the sound of the engine slowly died.


	2. Part II

When she’d been ten, Elain had fallen off the trampoline in the Archeron’s backyard and hit her head, and she’d been disoriented and dizzy for days. That’s exactly how she felt now, as if someone had snuck up behind her and whacked her across the skull with an emotionally-maddening, metaphorical two-by-four.

She struggled to keep up with Graysen’s rambling about his Crim Law study group as they made their way out of Palo Alto, and she was grateful when they got on the 1 and he decided to put on a financial podcast, because it meant she was able to freak out with minimal interruptions.  
Az had kissed her. Az, who’d never treated her with anything more than a fond platonic regard. Could he seriously have been harboring feelings for her all this time? More importantly, if he had, how the hell had she never noticed?  
No, she reasoned. No way. This was definitely the sort of thing she would have noticed. When a guy like Azriel Macar was somehow interested in you, you noticed.

…Right?

It seemed impossible to miss, especially considering how she’d felt when she’d first met him two years ago. ‘Crush’ felt like too fanciful a word for it, but she’d found herself thinking of him often in those first few months, even though she'd just given up her scholarship to Yale to stay at Stanford with Graysen.

The thing with Az just couldn’t be helped, she’d told herself at the time. You didn’t get to choose who you were attracted to, and being in a committed relationship couldn't change that. Yes, she’d been attracted to Azriel when she’d met him; that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t the first guy she’d drooled over a little since getting a boyfriend, and she was sure he wouldn’t be the last.

Az wasn’t like other guys, though; he was Az. He was the guy who’d built her a bookcase specifically designed for her art history texts, so she could display her favorite ones without sacrificing space. He was the guy who drove an hour out of his way to pick her up every time they had plans with Nesta and Cash in San Francisco, just so Elain wouldn’t have to drive herself. He was the one who’d sent her a glitter bomb to make her laugh after a professor had called her paper on Ghilandaio “revisionist and distressingly base."

Oh God, had those been signs all this time? She’d never even thought to interpret them that way.

Elain thought of the last time she and they’d hung out alone. She’d just broken up with Grayson again, and they'd driven to San Francisco for a big party Nesta’s firm had thrown her to celebrate a case she’d won.

They’d sat next to each other at dinner, subtly inventing back stories for all of Nesta’s stuffy coworkers before taking a drive to the lookout over Golden Gate park and stargazing on the hood. She’d thought about kissing him that night—of course she had. Honestly, Az in a suit was so sexy it wasn’t even entirely fair, and she’d drank just enough champagne that it has started to seem like a really good idea. 

Still, something had stopped her. She was used to getting attention from guys, but Azriel’s attention had always been…different, somehow. She hadn’t been willing to risk the ruining their friendship if he rebuffed her, and he certainly hadn’t seemed inclined to make a move, so she'd let it drop.

And then she’d gotten back together with Graysen, and as always, her crush on Az resolved itself back into simple friendship.

She glanced over at Grayson then, and feeling her gaze, his eyes flicked to hers and he flashed her a soft, private smile.

“What?” he said, the smile widening even as it grew slightly sheepish.

“Hi,” she said quietly, reaching over to run his tie through her index and middle finger. “You look really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her before letting his eyes fall back on the road. “I wore this suit for you; I know you like it.”

“I do,” she agreed, trying to ignore the twinge in her gut that he hadn’t returned the sentiment.

That just wasn’t his personality, though, and Elain had come to terms with that. She knew what her sisters thought of him: that he was arrogant and callous, too wrapped up in his own life to care about anyone else, including her. Elain knew better. What they perceived as vanity or disinterest was actually a painful shyness that Elain knew he fought to master every time he was thrust into a social situation he wasn’t comfortable with. She’d tried explaining this to her sisters once, to which Nesta had just snapped, “that just means he’s a control freak.”

Luckily Cash had cut in with a pointed cough so Elain wasn’t forced to point out that was the pot calling the kettle back. Yes, Grayson could get sharp when he was uncomfortable, and he wasn’t always as good at expressing his feelings as she maybe wished. Still, she knew that he loved her, and he made her happy.

Then again, so did Az, albeit in a different way. The thought brought her full circle, and she struggled not to chew on her freshly manicured nails. She still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around the fact Azriel had kissed her.

And not just kissed her, but really kissed her. She thought about the little moan he’d given when she’s run her hands down his bare back, and she felt her stomach tighten pleasantly. She knew she shouldn’t even consider it, but she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what might have happened if Graysen hadn’t been on his way over. Elain pictured Azriel naked and sweaty and giving her the business on top of her kitchen table.

Oh god, she had to stop. Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d kissed someone else while she had a boyfriend? Now she was over here fantasizing about what said someone else was like during sex? She was being unfair to Graysen, and she knew it.

“What are you thinking about? You looked a million miles away just now.”  
Elain turned back to Graysen, forcing a smile. However, it grew more natural when he reached over to tuck a curl behind her ear.

“I was thinking about—“ she glanced over at the title of the podcast scrolling across his phone screen. “Why there is so much ground beef in the world.”

He laughed.

“Please, you hate this kind of stuff. You only like podcasts about clothes and cold cases.”

She didn’t want to be annoyed at the comment, but given everything that had gone down in the last hour and a half, she couldn’t help it.

“No I don’t, and you didn’t corner the market on being intellectually curious, Gray.”

She only grew more annoyed when he laughed, seemingly in dismissal.

“C’mon babe. You still watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

“So?” she shot back. “You watch Suits! Don’t be an asshole.”

“Okay, yeah,” he said, still laughing. “But Suits has—“

“I swear to God,” she snapped. “If you say ‘The Duchess of Essex’, I will get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“I was just kidding!" Graysen said, grabbing her hand and weaving their fingers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s start over: what were you thinking about?”

Elain bit her lip, remembering the look on Azriel’s face when she’d left. She didn’t think she could ever forgive herself for it; she doubted he would, either. Fuck, she has made such a mess of things.

“Nothing really,” she lied. “I just can’t believe my baby sister is getting married.”  
Graysen gave a short of amusement.

“Yeah, to Batman.”

Elain gave Graysen a dry look that only made him laugh again. If only he could be this at-ease around her family, maybe they’d understand what it was she loved about him.

“Don’t give me that look,” Graysen said, still laughing. “The dude has more money than he can ever hope to spend, and he doesn’t have a job title beyond ‘philanthropist’. Also, I’ve never seen him and Batman in the same room. The facts speak for themselves.”

“Maybe if you’d met him more than three times, you would know that he is not, in fact, Batman. Also, don’t mention that to him; Rhys is a Marvel guy.”

Graysen shrugged.

“It’s not my fault he lives three thousand miles away.”

“They only moved to New York six months ago!”

Graysen pursed his lips, the conversation teetering from playful to serious.

“I know your sisters don’t like me,” he said after a beat, his grip tightening on the wheel. Elain opened her mouth to object, however half-heartedly, but Graysen gave her a flat look that told her not to waste her breath. “Don’t pretend like they don’t. Last time I saw Nesta, she almost clawed my eyes out. In fact, if her beefy boyfriend hadn’t been there, she probably would have. And before you say anything, I know he doesn’t like me, either. He’s just marginally better at hiding it.”

“They just don’t know you. This weekend is a good chance to clear the air and show them who you are.”

Graysen grimaced.

“I don’t know how much time I’m gonna have for reveling, El. Midterms are coming up; I need to be studying during the down time.”

Elain squeezed her eyes shut, praying for patience. Her sisters were going to have a field day with this.

“But surely Nesta will understand,” Graysen pressed on, clearly oblivious to the fact he was upsetting Elain. “She went to law school; she knows how hard it is.”

“I know it’s hard,” Elain said, trying to pretend it didn’t infuriate her that he always seemed to forget that she, too, was pursuing a higher education degree at an Ivy. “But it’s Feyre’s wedding, Gray. How is it gonna look if you’re gone half the time?”

Graysen only smirked, flicking her arm.

“What? Should I be worried some dude’s gonna scoop you up when I’m not looking?”

Elain flashed back to Azriel pushing her against the wall and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, and she let out a pained sigh.

“I’m glad that idea is so ludicrous to you,” she snapped. “And besides, it’s not about that. It’s a wedding; don’t you want to cut loose a little?”

Graysen gave a good-natured wince.

“I’m not sure I should be letting my guard down in front of Nesta. She always looks at me like she’s going to kill me.”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop!” Elain burst. “God, why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?” Graysen asked, defensive now.

“Act like every social event I take you to is some kind of hardship! I do things with your friends all the time!”

“That’s different,” Graysen said, unaware of the thin ice he’d wandered onto. 

“My friends are chill. Your family is—“ he broke off, finally seeming to realize what he was saying.

“Is what?” Elain demanded. “No, please, go on: what is my family?”

“I don’t know,” Graysen blundered on foolishly. “Intense!”

Elain rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry three strong women in the same place is such a burden to you.”

“I mean, it’s not just your sisters—“

“Are you kidding me?” she snarled.

“I never know what to talk to Cash about!” Graysen defended lamely. “I don’t do crossfit!”

Elain gave a snort of disgust.

“So? You know he’s a certified somm. Why don’t you talk to him about wine?”

Graysen, never one to back down from an argument, only rolled his eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that? Also, if he’s a somm, why does he work in a gym?”

Elain had about reached her limit. She couldn’t shake the horrible feeling she’d made a mistake. Just don’t answer it, Az had said when Graysen rang the doorbell. How different would things have been if she’d taken that advice? She didn’t even want to think about it; doing so made her feel a little sick.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said. “Please, just try and make an effort. It’s really important to me.”

Graysen softened at this, reaching for her hand again

“Okay, I will try.”

Not the emphatic response Elain had hoped for, but it was good enough.

“Thank you.”

“Give me a kiss,” Graysen said, and Elain relented, trying to let everything still eddying in her mind go as she leaned over and kissed him softly.

“I love you,” she said quietly, as much to remind herself as anything else.

“You too,” he said, kissing her again before leaning back in his seat. “Do you want to put Hozier on?”

It had always been their peace offering, and she accepted it without comment, settling back and watching the California coast streaking by out the far window. As they fell back into comfortable silence, Graysen’s hand resting on her knee, Elain found herself falling back into dismay. What was she going to say to Azriel when she saw him tonight? What was there even to say? That kiss was amazing, but what the hell did it mean, and why did you wait until I’d fallen in love with someone else to do it?

That admittedly seemed rather abrupt, and she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle the answer. Not that she really expected to get one. Az was slow to open up and quick to shut down, and above all else, he hated making a scene. She knew she had to be prepared for the possibility that he’d politely ignore her all weekend. She wasn’t surprised to find the feeling left a pit in her stomach. Complicated feelings aside, Az had always been one of her favorite people in the world. That they wouldn’t get to enjoy the weekend together made every part of her ache.

“Ready?”

Elain glanced up as they pulled into the large circular drive of the resort. God, she hoped Lucien was going to be on his best behavior. If there was anyone who hated Graysen more than Nesta, it was Luc.

However, it was Mor who greeted Elain on the front steps, much to her relief. Mor could charm a locked doorknob into opening. Hopefully she could put Graysen at ease as well.

As always, Mor stunned in cardinal red, her blonde hair flowing like she’d just stepped out of a John Freida ad as she bounded down the stairs.

“Ellie!” she cried, pulling Elain into a tight hug. “I’m so happy you’re here! And my god, you look so gorgeous. Only you could pull off baby pink and make it   
look like fashion week.”

Elain smiled at the lie. Mor could pull off anything, and they both knew it. Still, she’d said it with an inexhaustible warmth that made Elain feel as if she’d just drank of mug of hot chocolate—the good kind, with marshmallows and foam.

“You look stunning, too!” she said, holding Mor at arms length to admire her cocktail dress. “Is that Carolina Herrera?”

“Vintage Prada,” Mor said, grinning. “I stole it from your sister. Sweet lord does Nesta have good taste.”

Elain watched Mor’s grin slip a little as Graysen made his way up the steps, and she fought not to stiffen. She’d hoped to get at least one drink before facing the horde.

“Graysen,” Mor said, tone still unfailingly polite. “Good to see you."  
He gave a brief, uneasy smile of his own.

“Good to see you, too,” he said, unable to hide his discomfort as he trailed off.  
Elain fought off a groan, hoping Mor wouldn’t be able to read his reluctance. No such luck.

“Morrigan,” Mor supplied, still polite, if markedly less jovial.

“Morrigan,” Graysen repeated somewhat sheepishly. “Right, Rhys’s cousin.”  
“Right,” Mor said, and having clearly exhausted her tolerance for Graysen, she turned back to Elain.

“You should head upstairs. Feyre’s been dying for you to get here.”  
Elain glanced back at Graysen, who idled awkwardly behind her.

“We just have to get our—“

“Oh, Spencer can take your bags for you,” Mor interrupted, waving at one of the bellhops and making him grin.

Mor always made it a point to learn every staff member’s name.

“Just give the keys to Anthony and head on in. I will help Graysen get checked into your suite.”

“Suite? No, we had—“

Mor laughed, giving a wave of dismissal.

“You didn’t think Lucien was going to let you stay in an economy room, did you?”

Elain ignored Graysen’s inevitable eyeroll. Unlike with Nesta, he didn’t seem to have any qualms in admitting he didn’t like Lucien.

“Go on,” Mor urged, ushering Elain up the stairs. “Feyre will be so excited. She’s in 2702. It’s the obnoxiously large suite that overlooks the lake—you can’t miss it.”

“Right,” Elain said, descending to brush a kiss on Graysen’s lips. “I’ll see you upstairs in a bit,” Elain promised, squeezing his hand.

“Don’t make me get out the cattle prod, El!” Mor teased, and Elain let Graysen’s hand drop. She could feel a question trying to wrestle its way off her tongue, and after a minute of fighting it, she gave in.

“Has Az shown up yet?”

Mor gave a pretty frown.

“Not that I’ve seen, but you know that one; he likes to keep to the shadows as   
much as possible. Why? Did you need something?”

Only his forgiveness for kissing him like we were going to bang then bolting like a coward.

“Just curious,” Elain choked. “I’ll meet you in the room, Gray.”

Graysen only nodded, and Elain turned and headed inside, slipping up the stairs and hoping against hope Mor hadn’t already texted Feyre. However, when Nesta threw the door of the suite open before Elain could even knock, grey eyes blazing, Elain knew she’d been hoping in vain.

“You brought Graysen?” Nesta snarled in greeting, and Elain rolled her eyes and brushed past her sister.

“I’m so happy to see you, too,” she said, heading for where a bottle of champagne was chilling on a stylishly rustic oak bar.

It reminded her of the amazing pieces Az made, and she winced.

“Hey, FaeRae,” she called to the closed bathroom door. “How are you feeling?”

“I seriously can’t believe you,” Nesta continued, taking the champagne from Elain’s hand and setting down on the table as if she were a naughty child. “Are you trying to ruin Feyre’s wedding day?”

“Of course not,” Elain said sullenly, taking the glass back and swallowing its contents down. “And it’s not that big of a deal!”

“Of course it is,” Nesta said, eyes flashing. God, she looked like their mom. “It’s a disaster.”

Elain, knowing she was quickly loosing her footing, blurted, “Well Tam’s in the lobby, and he’s confessing his love for Feyre and making a scene!”

The bathroom door flew open, and Feyre emerged, curlers still wound into her hair.

“Are you fucking serious?” she demanded, trading a panicked glance with Nesta.

“No,” Elain admitted sheepishly, taking another sip from her glass. “But doesn’t that put this whole Graysen thing in perspective?”

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” Feyre said, even as she crushed her sister into a hug. 

“Do not scare me like that!"

“Lucien would never let Tam on the premises,” Elain assured her sister. “And you look beautiful, by the way.”

Feyre smiled.

“So do you! Love this boob action we’ve got going on here.”

She gestured to Elain’s cleavage, and Elain laughed.

“I don’t,” Nesta said tartly. “Not with Graysen here.”  
Elain rolled her eyes.

“I hate to break this to you, Nes, but Graysen’s seen me naked many times.”

“Ew,” Nesta said, crossing to pour herself and Feyre more champagne as well. 

“I don’t understand how you can find him attractive; he’s practically skin and bones.”

“We can’t all date guys built like an Avenger,” Elain sniped.

Nesta gave a smug smirk.

“If your man can’t do at least twenty pushups with you on his back, what’s even the point?”

“I agree,” Feyre crooned, and Elain rolled her eyes again.

“Graysen’s more a creature of the mind, not the body.”

Nesta gave a nonplussed look, crossing her arms.

“Cash can name a wine down to the vineyard and he still has time to stay in perfect shape, so I don’t really see your argument.”

“Well then maybe I’ll date him, then!” Elain snapped. “God, I hate having a   
lawyer for a sister.”

“But you’re fine dating one?” Nesta retorted.

“Oh lay off her, Nes,” Feyre called from the bathroom, where she’d retreated to finish doing her hair. “She’s brought him now, so let’s just let it go and have a good time, please.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at Elain, who threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Was I supposed to come to my sister’s wedding alone? I didn’t see anyone else wanting to take me.”

“Then maybe you weren’t looking hard enough,” Nesta said, and Elain paled.

She knew. Through whatever witchy magic she seemed to possess, Nesta knew that something had happened with Az. Oh god, did they all know? It made Elain feel oddly betrayed. If Az had feelings for her and Nesta knew about it, why hadn’t she told Elain? God, if someone had told her, Elain might never have—

“Do you know?” she said in a low voice, quiet enough that Feyre couldn’t hear her. “Does Cash?"

Nesta crossed her annoyingly-toned arms over her chest.

“Know what?”

Elain let out a relieved breath.

“Nothing, never mind. I’m going to the bar,” she called to Feyre. “Fey, I will meet you downstairs. There is only so much Nesta I can take sober.”

Nesta gave her a goodnatured snarl, and Elain kissed her cheek before slipping to the room and puling her phone from her clutch.

Headed to the bar for a drink before the rehearsal, she wrote to Graysen. Why don’t you come and join me? Nesta’s still upstairs getting ready, I promise.

His response was almost immediate.

I just sat down to study. I think I’m gonna skip the rehearsal; I’ll meet you at the cocktail hour after.

She let out a defeated sigh. If this was Graysen’s idea of “trying”, it was pretty pathetic. Before she could stop herself, she flashed back to that night in San Francisco, the way Az had listened as she blathered on about the different constellations, and the myths behind each one, laughing and asking questions in a way she could tell meant he actually cared to hear her answers. God, why couldn’t Graysen just do the same?

She shook her head, willing the comparison away. Despite everything, it really wasn’t fair to Graysen, and if this afternoon was any indication, she didn’t deserve Az, anyway.

She descended the stairs to find Rhys, Cash, and Mor already at the bar, and Rhys whistled when he saw her. He nudged Cassian to get his attention, and the bigger man turned and grinned, hooting like he was attending a MMA cage match.

“Here she is, lady and gentleman,” he called, cupping his hands as if addressing a rowdy crowd. “The reigning champ—“

“—At least at the bar—“ Rhys added, making Cash laugh before he continued.

“—standing 5’4 and weighing ‘we would never guess a lady’s weight’, the one, the only Elain Archeron.”

Mor and Rhys whistled and clapped, and Elain laughed through her blush.  
“Hey Cash,” she said in answer, stringing and her arms around his neck and letting him lift her off the ground, squeezing her until she couldn’t breath.

“Hey baby girl,” he said with affection, setting her down and grinning at her. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” she said, touching his lightly stubbled cheek before turning to Rhys and opening her arms.

“And you, Mr. Archeron!”

Rhys tugged her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she was struck, as she always was with these two, how nice it was to have finally have older brothers. She tried to banish the notion that she’d even considered Az a big brother type as well. Then again, that might just something she’d told herself to keep her feelings for him in check. Az has always been different, and she knew it. After all, She’d never fantasized about kissing Cash, and she’d certainly never done it. Oh god, Azriel’s lips had been so soft, and his skin—

“I should be so lucky,” Rhys said, breaking her reverie by attempting to ruffle her hair before dodging a jab to the ribs.

“How’d you get here so quick?” she asked Rhys, thanking Mor as she pressed a Bombay and tonic into Elain’s hand. “I thought you didn’t land in LA until noon.”

“How else?” Cassian laughed, re-tying the bun he wore at his nape. “They took the chopper."

Nesta had insisted he cut his beard when they became official, but she’d never convinced him to get rid of his shoulder-length hair, and Elain suspected her prim sister actually sort of loved the look on him. He was certain working it to rather devastating effect, if the gawking blonde behind the bar was any indication.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just charter a jet straight into Big Sur,” Elain teased, grateful for something other than her relationship troubles to think about for a while. She had to admit, it was easier to enjoy Rhys and Cash’s company when she wasn’t fretting about how to fold Graysen into their conversations.

“Oh, he tried,” Mor said, grabbing Rhys’s wrist before he could flip her the bird. 

“The airport didn’t want a transcontinental jet on their runway.”

“They wanted us to stop in Denver,” Rhys said in mock disgust. “Denver! I wasn’t going to make my beautiful princess suffer that cow town!”

“Are you talking about Feyre or the jet?” Cash said, and Elain laughed.

“Feyre loves Denver,” Elain told Rhys."I hate to break it to you, but your princess can be pretty granola.”

“Case in point,” Rhys said in mock exasperation, gesturing to the trees outside the large picture window.

Cassian bubbled his lips in mockery. “Boy, if you think this is granola, there is so much I still have to teach...“

He trailed off as his eyes flitted over Rhys’s shoulder, and he put a hand to his chest, pretending to stumble back a little at what he was seeing.

“Bestill, my heart,” he called, flashing a blinding, lovesick smile. “Nesta Archeron, you are—as always—a sight for sore eyes.”

Elain turned just in time to see Nesta rolling her own eyes, though Elain could see the smirk that she was wrestling to keep off her face.

“Cash, don’t be a clown; you saw me like twenty minutes ago.”  
Still, Nesta gravitated immediately to his side, tipping her head back so she could kiss him. Even in her towering stilettos she still only came up to his shoulder, though she fit into the crook of his arm as if she was made to be there.

“I can’t help it,” Cassian said, curling a hand around Nesta’s neck and brushing her nose with his. “You are more beautiful every time I see you.”  
Elain couldn’t help the soft stab of disappointment in her gut at hearing him say it. Graysen would never had made a declaration like that in public.

“Stop,” Nessian insisted, even as she grinned a little. “You’re embarrassing yourself and me.”

“I can’t,” Cassian said more quietly, and Nesta’s grin faded into something reverent. “I love you too much."

“Ugh, enough already,” Rhys cut in, much to Elain’s private relief. “The more you two moon over each other, the less dramatic it will be when Feyre finally get’s her ass down here and I wax poetically about how much I love her."

“Yeah, where is your child bride?” Cassian said, his hand sliding down to casually rest on Nesta’s low back as he glanced up the stairs again.

“She’s only ten years younger than me!” Rhys said in an almost whine. “And age is just a number.”

“You were almost thirty the day she graduated high school!” Mor taunted in a sing-song voice.

“She’s just fixing her makeup,” Nesta told Rhys, swatting Cash’s hand away playfully as he attempted to grab her butt. However, all playfulness faded when she turned her sharp gaze on Elain.

“Where’s Graysen?”

“Ew,” Rhys muttered quietly, though still loud enough they could all hear. “Grayson’s here?”

Elain gave him a withering look, if only to win herself a moment’s reprieve from Nesta’s reproachful stare.

“He’s got a lot of studying to do, so he’s just going to meet us during cocktail hour.”

“Ellie, are you fucking kidding me?” Nesta snapped, pushing away from Cassian now she could turn the entirety of her disapproval on Elain. It was like standing in a gale force wind.

“I figured you’d be pleased,” Elain defended lamely, hoping she could keep her own disappointment from showing. Oh god, what was Az going to think when he finally got here and she was alone? She was going to look like such a bitch.

“Well, I’m not,” Nesta said. “What room are you staying in? I’m going to go up there and kick his ass.”

“Hey now, antsy pants,” Cassian said, stringing a corded arm around Nesta’s waist as she made to storm off. “If Elain’s fine with it, just let it be.”

“Thank you,” Elain mouthed, and Cassian shot her a reassuring wink.

“When did you get back together?” Rhys asked, tone milder than his rather stormy expression.

“Two weeks ago,” Elain said. “And honestly, it doesn’t matter right now. Let’s just focus on getting you married."

“If my bride ever shows,” Rhys said with a smile, clearly trying to take his cues from Elain and not pile on to Nesta’s witch hunt.

“Look behind you, fool,” a voice crooned, and they all did to find Feyre leaning on the bar, taking a sip of Rhys’s vodka on the rocks.

“You sneaky little minx!” Rhys said delightedly. “Where did you come from?”  
Feyre raised her eyebrows, pressing her hand to Rhys’s chest so the enormous diamond on it shone.

“I live to surprise you,” she told him, and Elain had to look away, not able to bare watching any more couples in love when her own boyfriend was being a shit. Not to mention—

“Damn son, about time,” Cash crowed, eyes going over Elain’s shoulder. “I thought we were going to have to drag your ass away from your mirror.”

“Fuck off,” a smooth voice replied, and Elain fought not to tense, knowing the moment she’d been quietly dreading had finally arrived. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t drunk enough, didn’t feel pretty enough or worthy enough to face Azriel after what she’d done to him.

What could she possibly say to make him understand? She hadn’t been prepared, had never realized that was how he felt. If she had, things might look a lot differently right now. But he hadn’t, and they weren’t. That was the thing about timing: shitty as it could be, it was still everything.

Knowing she couldn’t plausibly delay the interaction any longer, Elain turned, fighting a cartoonish exhale as Azriel descended the stairs to give Cash that weird one-arm hug guys always seemed to favor. He didn’t glance in her direction, but she was glad for it, if for no other reason than it gave her free reign to stare.

Azriel almost always wore black—whether in t-shirt and jeans or a suit—but today his suit was navy, and the thing fit him like a fucking glove. He turned to kiss Nesta on the cheek, and Elain forced herself not to ogle him from behind. She didn’t think she’d ever let herself fully appreciate what a gorgeous ass he had. Or maybe that was just the slacks, which were tailored to perfection.

“So fancy, brother,” Cash said, tugging at Az’s lapels before pretending to straighten the slender marigold tie Azriel wore. “Did your girl pick this out for you?”

Elain tried to catch her slippery, traitorous heart as it immediately began to sink. Azriel had a girl? Elain hated herself for it, but a wave a jealousy washed over her.

“Girl?” Feyre demanded, grabbing Az’s arm. “What girl? You have a girl? Since when?”

Azriel flicked her fingers in a not so subtle indication she let go of him.

“You don’t have to sound so goddamn surprised,” he told her, his tone playful but mild.

Oh god, he wasn’t denying it.

“Okay, but who is she?” Feyre pushed, and Elain was grateful for it. She was desperate to know, even realizing she had absolutely no right to ask.

“His clothier,” Cassian said on a croon, and Azriel punched him in the arm, having yet to look at Elain.

“Dude, just shut up,” Azriel said, running a hand across his silky undercut. “And she’s not 'my girl'. She’s just my consultant at Trunk Club,” he told Feyre. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Her name is Cerridwen,” Mor said dreamily. “She’s Welsh. Oh my god, Fey, she’s seriously the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. I told Az he should ask her out.”

“No, don’t,” Feyre said, smiling as she brushed the sleeve of Azriel’s jacket.   
“The woman is clearly a genius; you don’t want to screw that up by sleeping with her.” Azriel gave a slightly embarrassed smile of his own, and the shy warmth in it had butterfly flitting in Elain’s stomach. "Seriously, Az,” Feyre continued. “You look amazing.”

Elain was inclined to agree. The navy looked incredible against his copper skin, and the yellow tie brought out the gilt in his hazel eyes. Perhaps it was the fanciful art historian in her, but something about them had always reminded Elain of the crowns and kings of Old Byzantium. Not just the colors—the streaks of green and gold and hammered bronze—but the solemn wisdom, the quiet assurity that came with knowing you didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“I agree,” Nesta said, breaking Elain’s reverie. “That color suits you. Are those Taninos?”

Nesta indicated the caramel dress shoes Azriel wore, and he flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck to indicate he’d grown uncomfortable under all the scrutiny.

“Louboutins, I think.”

“Did your girl pick those out, too?” Feyre asked. “Damn, I want her to dress me!"

“Azriel Macar in something other than black,” Rhys joined in. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Azriel said with affection, and Rhys grinned before pulling Azriel into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, my man,” Rhys said, patting Azriel’s cheek until being batted away.

Azriel smiled, and it was lovely enough to break Elain’s heart. She’d always sort of felt that way when he gave a genuine smile, but now there was a sharp edge to it in knowing he might never smile at her that way again. God, where was all this coming from? This morning she hadn’t even considered—

Azriel finally turned to her, and though his face remained impassive, she could see his shoulders tightening through his suit jacket.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, tone unchanged even as he leaned in to brush a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

She knew why he’d said it—it was the polite response he would have given Mor or either of her sisters—but it still made her chest ache, because it was what she’d hoped Graysen would say when he saw her. That he hadn't—that Az had to do it for him—was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“Thanks,” she said in a croak, fending off the urge to fix his silk tie, which Cash had knocked slightly askew. “So do you.”

His lips quirked, though there was little humor in the gesture, and the look faded entirely as he flicked his gaze over her shoulder.

“Where’s Graysen?” he said before casually adding, “Cash mentioned you two were back together.”

“Studying,” Nesta cut in archly. “Because apparently midterms are more important than spending time with my beautiful baby sister.”

“I’m not the baby,” Elain grit out. “Feyre is. And you went to law school! You get it!”

“If Cash’s sister had been getting married, I would have taken a weekend off!”

“Well luckily I don’t have a sister,” Cash said, gently grabbing Nesta’s shoulders and pulling her back. “And you didn’t know me when you were in law school, so maybe let’s just give poor Ellie a break.”

“You could do so much better,” Nesta said, and Elain had to fight not to wince.  
It conversation would have been awkward under any circumstances; with Azriel as a witness, it was damn near unbearable.

“Nes, c’mon,” Feyre said. “Can we not fight right now. It’s my wedding!”

“Agreed,” Rhys said. “Shall we get this party started, then? I want to get this dumb rehearsal over with so the real fun can begin!”

Feyre responded with an soft elbow to the ribs before gesturing to all of them.

“C’mon, Lucien is waiting for us down at the arbor.”

Feyre took Rhys’s hand and Nesta fell into step with Mor, and Elain wondered for a moment if she should try to catch Az now, before she started drinking and evitably made the whole situation worse. It was too late, though; he and Cassian had already started up a conversation about the World Cup, and she knew she’d only look foolish if she tried to interject. Instead she fell a few paces behind them and texted Graysen.

Hey, Elle Woods. How’s studying going?

She watched the ellipsis pulse, signaling he was type a reply, but after a moment they disappeared, and she sighed, stuffing her phone back into her clutch. She’d signed up for this, she reminded herself. Graysen had warned her many times the dangers of dating a law student, and she’d said she could handle it. It wasn’t fair of her to hold it against him now.

She followed the rest of the crew out onto the palatial deck that overlooked the beautiful wooded area beyond, and she flushed when Azriel offered her a genteel hand down the two flights of stairs that lead down into it. However, he let go the minute her feet touched the pine floor, and he was already ten feet ahead of her again, exchanging playful shoves with Mor. If they hadn’t kissed, that could have been her and Az horsing around. The idea that she’d somehow fractured the friendship with her unfair brashness had her throat tightening.

Luckily she didn’t have much more time for self-flagellation, because as they followed the path to the clearing where the arbor and chairs had been set up, she spotted Lucien and squealed.

“Luc!” she said, running to him and throwing her arms around his neck so he could lift her off the ground.

“Ellie Bean,” he said, squeezing her tight enough that she gave a hissing laugh. “Don’t you just look cute as a button.”

“Please,” she said, shoving him and smiling. Good lord was it a relief to see him. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t checking my boobs out.”

He gave a face of mock disgust.

“More like they were checking me out. Seriously, El, who are you trying to impress?”

He gave a sly grin and she pinched him in the arm as Nesta called, “Graysen, apparently.”

The mirth slipped from his face as his eyes slid over her shoulder for a moment and back to her.

“You’re dating Graysen again? Well that’s…” he paused. “Unfortunate."

Elain felt herself deflating. It wasn’t that she’d expected Lucien to be pleased, but it would have been nice to have at least one person who wasn’t piling it on.

“It’s also none of your business,” she said, hoping that Az hadn’t wandered into earshot yet. “If you want to bitch about it, please wait until my back is turned.”  
Lucien held up his hands in defeat.

“Okay, shirty pants. I was just asking. Should we get started?”

This was to Feyre and Rhys, and quickly they all fell into lines, with Rhys heading up the aisle first, Nesta and Cassian after, followed by Mor, who’d be walking up the aisle with Rhys’s friend Hel, who—like their friend and officiant Amren—wouldn’t be in until tomorrow.

The whole thing seemed to unfold with excruciating slowness, and Elain felt her palms begin to sweat when it was just her and Azriel waiting for their turn. She knew she should just keep her mouth shut, but being so close to him, she couldn’t help herself.

“Az,” she breathed as they watched Mor sauntering up the aisle, pretending to throw petals as if she were the flower girl. “About what happened this afternoon—“

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he said quickly, and she could feel his bicep tense from where her hand lay in the crook of his arm.

“I want to talk about it. You have to understand that I—“

He cut her off again.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Ellie. I get it.”

“I know, but it’s more complicated that that.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re dating Graysen, and that’s fine, so let’s just please forget about it.”

“That kiss isn’t something I can just forget,” she blurted quietly, and he shot her a wary sidelong glance before sighing and turning back.

“It’s over. And I really don’t want to talk about it, so let’s just focus on getting through this weekend.”

“But I—“

“Please, Elain,” he said, as they began to walk up the aisle. “Just let it go.”

Elain fell silent as they walked, fighting the childish urge to cry. He was right; this weekend wasn’t about them, and if she was unhappy about the way things were going, that was her own damn fault. God, she really wished Graysen wasn’t being such an ass right now; it wasn’t helping matters.

She only half-listened as Lucien recited Amren’s parts of the ceremony and Rhys and Feyre theirs, spending most of her energy trying not to look at Azriel. She wasn’t sure if it was the suit or the fact she now knew he used cinnamon tooth paste, but she could not stop marveling at how desperately attractive she found him in that moment. His attractiveness had been problematic in the past, sure, but only in the most benign sense. Now it was a downright problem.

Cursing herself for staring again, she let her eyes flick to Cash instead, just in time to see him wink at Nesta across the aisle. It was a gesture so warm and intimate that Elain felt almost guilty at having caught it, and sick with envy that Cassian was so in love with her sister that he simply couldn’t resist silly displays of affection.

A glance at Rhys made her feel even worse. He was staring at Feyre as if she’d personally hung ever star in his night sky. Had Graysen ever looked at her like that, even in private? She was sure he had, though she couldn’t remember the last time.

She thought again of the night she and Az had been stargazing, realizing with a jolt that he’d been giving her a similarly moonstruck look she’d been too stupid to interpret. Regret knifed through her. She should have just kissed him that night. If she had—

“And then Am will say ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife' and you can—Jesus, Rhysand, this is a wedding, not a porno—“

Elain glanced back up as Rhys threaded a hand through Feyre’s hair and kissed her wantonly, and Elain found her vision blurring slightly, especially when she looked away and found Azriel watching her.

She quickly blinked back the tears as the recessional started, fighting to master herself as Azriel offered his arm to her again. Goddamnit, why did he have to smell so good? And why did he have to give her that sweet look even after she’d screwed him over so royally? She didn’t deserve it.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice as they made their way back down the aisle.

“I’m fine.”

She felt his bicep tighten beneath her grip.

“You can still talk to me if you’re not,” he said after a long beat of hesitation.  
She considered pushing the issue from earlier before deciding against it.

“I know.”

“Good.”

They’d reached the end of the aisle now, and he let her arm drop, sparing her only a quick glance before they were enmeshed into the group again.

They all headed back to the lobby, where a few guests had begun to gather for the cocktail hour on the deck. The band was just finishing setting up as well, and waiters in white coats were already milling about. Gods, Elain just wanted to go upstairs and lay down.

“Should we have a drink?” Mor said with glee. “It’s officially part o’clock!”

Elain glanced at Az, wanting more than anything to stay a little longer in this bubble before the reality set back in. However, she knew she couldn’t. Pretending would only make it all worse.

“I have to run upstairs to my room,” Elain said. “I’ll be back down at six."

Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Tell Graysen he better be on his best behavior. I’m watching him.”

“Okay, de Niro,” Cassian said, patting Nesta on the butt. “That’s enough ‘Meet the Parents’ for one day. Go on, Ellie, we’ll have a drink waiting for you.”

Elain nodded, trying to not to look at Azriel again as she headed to her room.  
She opened the door to find Graysen sitting on the bed, watching something on his iPad. He yanked out his earbuds at the sound of the door opening, flashing a sheepish smile.

“Are you serious?” she said in greeting, glancing at his screen even as he hastily moved to close out of Netflix. “You’re just up here watching Suits? You   
told me you were studying!”

“I needed to take a break.”

“You’re forty minutes into the episode!” Elain seethed. “And I’ve only been gone for an hour and a half. Are you telling me you only studied for thirty minutes?”

“I just needed—“

“God, what is wrong with you?”

Elain felt the need to cry bubbling up again, which only served to make her more angry.

“I can’t fucking believe you blew off the rehearsal so you could sit up here and watch tv!”

“It’s not like I’m in the wedding,” Graysen defended. “And I figured you’d want some time with your sisters alone.”

“Well good thinking, because now Nesta is mad at me, and I have to lie to her so she doesn’t murder you. Seriously, very well done.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I—“

“Let’s just go,” Elain ground out. “I can’t do this with you right now.”

Graysen looked hurt.

“If you’re going to be mad at me, maybe I should just stay up here. I don’t want to fight all night.”

Elain wheeled on him.

“Are you serious? You are just going to hide in our room all night? How is that going to look?”

“Okay,” Graysen said, voice testy as he slid off the bed. “Jesus, you don’t have to be so mean about it.”

“Just get your shit and let’s go,” Elain said, feeling worse than ever. “I just want to have a good time tonight.”

“Then let’s not fight,” Graysen offered, uncoiling to his feet and attempting to pull Elain into his arms. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the rehearsal, okay?”

“No, not okay,” Elain growled, pushing his hands away. “And I really don’t want you to hug me right now, so just get your shoes on so I can have a drink.”

“I hate when you get like this.”

“Well I hate when you treat me like my life isn’t a priority for you, so I guess we’re even.”

Graysen huffed and slid into his shoes without further comment, following Elain to the elevator. They rode down in silence, Elain seething and fretting in equal measure. This weekend was supposed to be fun, and now all she wanted was to cry.

“I love you,” Graysen said in a soft voice as the doors opened at the lobby level, and Elain glanced at him.

“I know,” she said, even as she found she didn’t have the energy to say it back.  
He bristled at the quiet rebuff, and his hand was stiff in hers as they made their way out onto the sprawling deck, where the party was now in full effect.

“I’m going to get us drinks,” Graysen said, letting go of her hand and making for the bar before she could even think to stop him. She knew she should smooth things over with him, but she found she was still too annoyed to do so, so she nodded her assent as he disappeared off into the throng.

When he was gone, Elain glanced around under the auspices of making sure that Nesta was suitably occupied, but when her gaze fell on Az across the deck, it snagged.

He’s unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt and loosened his tie, and she watched, slightly awestruck, as he ran a hand through his glossy hair, smiling softly at something Briar—Mor’s girlfriend—was saying to him. Elain wanted more than anything to go over and join their conversation, but knew she wouldn’t be fit company for anyone until she calmed down enough to make up with Graysen. Besides, considering everything that had happened, it didn’t really seem fair to force Graysen and Az into conversation knowing neither particularly cared for the other.

“Ellie, there you are!”

Elain turned to find Claire Better, their childhood neighbor, bobbing at her elbow, and fought not to grit her teeth. She really wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Claire,” she forced out, smiling as she hugged the willowy brunette. “How are you?”

“So good,” Claire said, beaming. “I mean, isn’t this place just amazing? Like, wow, this is actually paradise Also, seriously, could Rhysand’s friends be any more attractive? I feel like I died and went to Heaven in here! I’m always telling Nesta that if she and Cash every break up I am so gonna swoop in.”

At this Elain did smile, if only at the idea of what Nesta would do if Claire ever tried to lay the moves on Cassian.

“I think that ship has sailed,” Elain admitted. “He asked me for her ring size a few months ago.”

“I know,” Claire said wistfully, glancing over to where Nesta and Cash where flirting near the balcony. “But they are so cute together I can’t even be that mad at her. Besides,” she trailed off, her eyes flitting from Cassian to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “He’s not the only hottie cootarotty in that friend group.”

Elain didn’t have to look to know who Claire was talking about, and she hated herself for the way it made her blood boil.

“Az is so gorgeous it almost isn’t fair,” Claire pressed on. “What is he?”

Elain bristled at the use of the nickname, knowing Azriel would be uncomfortable hearing it come from a near-stranger’s lips.

“What do you mean?” Elain forced out, finally turning to watch him as well.

“Is he Mexican or Greek or something? No, he can’t be Greek, he’s too—“

Elain grit her teeth at the impertinent question.

“His mom was Cherokee.”

“Oh My God yes, that makes so much sense,” Claire tittered. “He definitely has that strong, silent type thing going on. He’s like if Kocoum was a real person. I could so see him in a war bonnet—”

“Jesus, Claire! Could you be any more single white female right now?”

“Okay, excuse me, Miss ACLU. I’m just saying he’s hot, is all. Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Cash mentioned he was seeing some girl in LA,” Elain lied, trying to assure herself she was doing this for Az’s benefit and not just her own. “And you need to stop speculating on people’s ethnic backgrounds; it’s so rude."

“Geez, okay,” Claire said, holding up her hands indignantly as if she hadn’t   
done the same thing to both Rhys and Cash on different occasions. “You don’t have to get self-righteous about it. And that sucks he has a girlfriend, though it’s not exactly surprising. God, those eyes and that skin tone—“

“Just leave him alone,” Elain snapped, patience frayed. “And have a nice night.”

“Wait!” Claire called as Elain retreated. “What about Lucien? He’s still single, right?”

Elain ignored her, glancing around for Graysen before spotting him talking to Thomas Mandray and rolling her eyes. He was the last person—besides maybe Claire—she wanted to deal with right now. She really ought to wrestle Graysen away and try and get him to warm up her sisters, but she knew it would likely only end in disaster, so she casually slipped off the upper deck instead, heading down to the deserted pool and sitting on one of the loungers.  
She knew she didn’t deserve the self-pity she was indulging in, but she let herself steep in it anyway, wishing she could go back in time and do everything differently.Differently, how, she wasn’t sure, but the temptation to fantasize about it lingered none the less.

She glanced over to see a server sneaking a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, and she stood, crossing to him.

“Can I bum one of those?”

She wasn’t sure why she’d asked, but something ugly and self destructive had flared to life inside of her, and she found herself needing to do something reckless, if only to keep from stomping back upstairs and slapping either   
Graysen or Claire in the face.

He looked alarmed before nodding and fishing the pack out of his pocket and handing it to her. She knew she shouldn’t, but she slipped it between her lips anyway, flicking the lighter open and bending to light it before hearing a tsking noise and hastily pulling it from her lips.

“Are you trying to start World War Nesta?”

Elain turned, sheepish, to find Cassian watching her. The server paled, immediately melting into the closest shadow

“She will kill you if she catches you smoking that,” Cassian continued, producing a sleek vape pen from his pocket and handing it to Elain. “Wise up, Junior.”

She accepted it and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed the cigarette in the palm of his outstretched hand. He snapped it in half and threw it over the balcony, still studying her.

“I didn’t have you down for a nicotine user, Ellie.”

“I’m not usually,” she said, taking a small drag before coughing.

“Clearly. What’s up, Doc?”

“I’m just…stressed,” she said, forcing herself to take another drag. This one went down much smoother.

“About?”

“Does Nesta know you have this thing? Something tells me she’d be less than thrilled.”

Cassian laughed, indulging in her diversion.

“We don’t have any secrets from each other. And nice sidestep. Very elegant.”  
Elain sighed.

“I just needed a second to be alone.”

“Is this about Graysen?”

For an absurd moment she thought about telling him everything. Still, she wasn’t sure what it would change, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Nesta says I could do better.”

Cassian considered, accepting the pen back from her and slipping it into his inside coat pocket.

“I won’t argue with that. But this is your life, El, not hers. You just have to do what’s right for you. And if that means being with Graysen, then we will support you, I promise."

Elain bit her lip, wishing she knew what that right thing was. She did love Graysen; she knew that. But when she let herself consider it, she wasn’t convinced that some part of her wasn’t in love with Az as well.

No, that was fanciful and she knew it. She cared for Az, admired him, was certainly attracted to him, but none of that was enough to give up on what she’d built with Graysen. It might have been, at one point, but now—

“There you are, babe. I’ve been looking for you.”

Elain and Cassian both turned to see Graysen coming down the stairs, a drink in his hand for Elain.

“I’m gonna go,” Cassian said, giving her a soft wink. “Just don’t be gone too long. There are only so many ways for me to distract your sister before she gets wise to my act.”

She smiled, and Cassian turned, thumping Graysen hard enough on the back that it had to have hurt.

“Good to see you, brother,” he said, breezing back upstairs and out of sight.  
Graysen winced as he set down Elain’s drink on the railing and came to stand next to her.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, rolling his shoulder where Cassian had hit him.

“Are you still going to being an asshole?”

“No, I came to apologize.”

She turned, waiting.

“I’m sorry I was being a dick earlier. I know I should have come to the rehearsal, and I know I need to try harder with your sisters.”

Elain considered before nodding. This was the Graysen she loved. She wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors to continuing to punish him.

“Apology accepted,” she said, taking a sip out of her drink. “Should we go upstairs and enjoy the party?”

Graysen looked wary at the prospect, but he nodded.

“After you.”

 

Around midnight, Elain still couldn’t sleep, so she slipped out of bed and went down to the lobby bar for a final drink. She thought about waking Graysen up and seeing if he wanted to join her, but she realized after a guilty second that she actually would rather be alone, so she simply slipped into yoga pants and headed down.

Just one drink to clear her head, she promised herself, then she’d put this mess of a day behind her and focus on enjoying the rest of the weekend. However, when she noticed a lone figure sitting at the bar and felt butterflies flitting in her stomach, she knew she wasn’t going to find whatever peace it was she'd come looking for.

Az had taken off his sharp suit, but he was no less handsome in the shirt and workout pants he was wearing, his hair suggestively mussed and his sleeve of tattoos on display.

“Hey,” she croaked when he noticed her. “What are you doing up?”

He gave a small, unenthusiastic turn of his lips.

“Same thing as you, I guess.”

She glanced at the seat next to him, wondering if she ought to just head back upstairs and leave him in peace. However, she resist the temptation to stay when he pulled out the stool in invitation.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, ordering a gin and tonic and settling in.

“Rhys is staying in my suite tonight, and he’s drunk and rambling about how much he loves Feyre. I just needed a break.”

“Twenty bucks says he gives into temptation and ends up sneaking into their room instead.”

“I’m under strict instructions from Nesta not to let that happen, so I gave him a benadryl and told him it was advil. He’ll be out in a hour or so.”

She laughed, which earned her a soft, slightly warmer smile.

“Clever.”

“There is only so much bad poetry a person can listen to before they snap. This seemed more peaceable than punching him in the face.”

“True enough.”

“What about you? You usually sleep like the dead.”

Elain flushed, remembering on more than one occasion when she’d gotten drunk in LA and ended up crashing in Az’s guest room. All she could think about now was what might have happened if she’d gone into his room one of those nights instead.

“Just—a big day tomorrow, I guess,” she said finally. “A lot to think about.”  
He nodded and took a sip of his drink, and she did the same as they lapsed into a weighty silence. As it stretched on and the gin settled into her empty stomach, Elain quietly blurted,

“Why did you tell me that’s how you felt?”

A dull panic seemed to flair in Azriel’s eyes as his gaze cut to her. After a minute of studying her, he glanced back down into his whiskey glass instead.

“Would it have changed anything?”

Elain’s throat tightened.

“I—I don’t know.”

Azriel nodded, taking another ambitious swallow.

“That’s why.”

She looked down at the bar, and he sighed.

“I didn’t want you to think that being your friend wasn’t enough, because it is. And I know you have this complicated thing with him and that you love him or whatever, so I just didn’t want to end up—“ he paused sighing. “I didn’t want to end up here, feeling like I do right now.”

She considered this. It wasn’t like Az to be this forthright, though she could tell from the flush in his cheeks that he’d been down here drinking for awhile. She knew she shouldn’t push, but somehow she couldn’t help it.

“I understand that, but you still could have told me the truth.”

He gave a low noise of frustration.

“You just admitted it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“It might have made all the difference, if you’d said something when I was single! Why did you wait until I’d gotten back with Graysen?”

“I didn’t know you were back together with him!” he snapped. “How was I supposed to know that? You always keep it a secret, because you know deep down he’s the fucking worst.”

“You don’t even really know him!”

“Fine, I don’t,” he said, and seeing the tears she couldn’t keep from her eyes, he softened, his shoulders dropping. “This is why I didn’t want to have this conversation tonight. I care about you, Ellie, and I really don’t want to fight. I just—” he broke off, shaking his head.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He threw a fifty on the bar for his drinks and her before turning, and Elain found herself on her feet as well.

“Az, I don’t want leave things like this. It sucks.”  
He glanced her her over his shoulder, expression pained.

“No, what sucks is that you kissed me back and still decided to come here with him. Goodnight, Elain.”

Elain sank back onto her own stool as he disappeared out of sight, feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. He was right, of course. She’d been the one to make this mess, not him.

She only hoped, as she put her head down on the bar and began to cry, that she could find a way to unmake it before the wedding tomorrow.


	3. Part III: The Day of the Wedding

 

##  **Part III: Day of the Wedding**

Two hours into the hike, Azriel was ready to jump off the nearest cliff.

“Do you think it’s low cut in the back?” Rhys said. “She has such gorgeous back muscles, it would be a shame to—“

Az only rolled his eyes in response, but Cassian—who’d evidentially reached his limit on Rhys’s inane musings—snapped, “Jesus Christ, Rhysand, we don’t know! And even if we did, we wouldn’t tell you; Feyre would kill us.”

Rhys turned to Azriel again for support, but he only shrugged, not in the mood to play along with Rhys’s lovesick games.

They’d been on the trail since noon, and Rhys has spent the majority of that time musing about what Feyre’s dress looked like and what color lingerie she’d wear underneath.

It had been amusing enough at first, especially as they traded stories about the caddish pup Rhys had been when they’d all met a decade ago, but as the day wore on, Azriel found the conversation wearing on him as well.

Rhys had met Feyre the same night Az has met Elain, and he remembered seeing the same moonstruck expression on his friend’s face then he still caught glimpses of in the mirror to this day.

It had been a joy, truly, to watch someone come into Rhys’s life and completely change his orbit—transforming him from a philandering rake to a besotted goon—but for Azriel, it had always had a bittersweet edge.

Two weeks before that night, Elain and Graysen had been one of their infamous breaks, and Feyre had been dating a douchy Scottish photographer.  _Two weeks_. That’s how close He and Rhys has come to switching fates.

Not that he’d wish this unrequited misery on Rhys—who was presently screaming “I love Feyre” off the cliffs side—but he could help but be haunted by those fourteen days.

They’d fallen equally that hard that night, and it had ached to watch Rhys flirt with Feyre—then dance with her, then kiss her—while Elain stood out in the cold, crying on the phone with Graysen.

Feyre and Rhys had made falling in love seem like easiest thing in the world, and for them, Az supposed, it has been. The moment they’d laid eyes on one another, it had been a done deal for both of them.

It had been a done deal for him that night too, no matter how hard he’d tried to shake the notion and move on.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore. What’s the fuck’s going on with you?”

Azriel looked up in surprise to find Rhys watching him.

“Nothing,” he said immediately before amending, “what do you mean?”

Cash and Rhys traded a meaningful look before the latter pulled out his phone to play the tell-tell introductory bars of “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe” before Azriel slapped the phone nearly out of Cash’s grip.

“Was that really necessary,” he snapped, taking a pull from a water bottle he hoped they didn’t realize was whiskey.

“Yes,” his friends said in unison, and he rolled his eyes, taking another swig.

He was really starting to regret this hike, though he supposed it still beat Cash’s original suggestions of doing some kind of parkour/crossfit workout through the Redwoods. At least hiking was also still a drinking activity. However, when Rhys watched him take another swig from his canteen, Az felt the sweet liquor curdled in his stomach.

“Seriously, dude,” Rhys said, his usually smooth brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

Azriel gave a frown he hoped conveyed confusion instead of the sullenness he felt at being called out.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian offered, but Rhys punched him in the arm, adding,

“You’re—more quiet that usual.”

“And you only drink Jameson when you’re brooding,” Cash said, snatching the water bottle from Azriel and give it a derisive sniff. “Is this about yesterday?”

“What about yesterday?” Rhys demanded, and Azriel felt guilty at the hurt in his tone.

It wasn’t that he’d been intentionally keeping any of this from Rhys, it was just...embarrassing to admit what had been going on out loud, and it wasn’t in Azriel’s nature to offer to freely offer this kind of private information up. He’d only told Cash because it had been necessary. The idea of having to admit the whole thing to Rhys, too—

“Az drove to Palo Alto yesterday before the rehearsal.”

“Oh shit,” Rhys said. “To tell Elain you’re in love with her?”

“I’m not ‘in love’ with her,” Az defended, but the excuse sounded brittle even to him The truth was that he was in love with her—that he had been for almost two years—and all three of them knew it.

Cassian was gracious enough not to contradict Azriel’s outburst, and instead he pressed, “so what happened? Had she’d already left with Graysen?”

Azriel blew out a breath. I guess they were really doing this, then.

“No, I got there before him.”

He paused, and Rhys made a gesture of expectancy.

“And? Did you tell her how you feel?”

Azriel blew out a breath.

“Not exactly.”

Cash groaned.

“C’mon, brother. Don’t make us play twenty questions.”

Azriel sighed again, trying to to keep from tipping headlong back into the memory. Even now after everything had gone so wrong, the feelings of Elain’s lips on his had his blood heating.

“I kissed her.”

“You did what?” Rhys squawked, at the same time Cash said, “Oh fuck, and she didn’t kiss you back?”

“No, she did,” Azriel admitted. “That’s the worst part. And she didn’t just kiss me. It was like—“

He broke off, running a hand through his hair. His friends remained patient as he slid off the rock he’d been sitting on and began to pace, and finally he’d mastered himself enough to speak again.

“She had her hands all over me, and  _Jesus_ , she was making the hottest noises...”

“Did she touch your dick?” Cash asked.

Azriel paused to give him a dark look, and his friend had the decency to look sheepish.

“My bad, not the point.”

“It wasn’t sexual,” Azriel said before making an agitated gesture with his hand. “I mean, I guess it was, but that wasn’t what was so intense about it. It was just felt like—I don’t know, the way she kissed me made it feel like she’s thought about it before, too.”

“I’m sure she has,” Rhys offered. “She pretty much lights up like a Christmas tree every time your name even comes up in conversation. We’ve all agreed this thing you two have is probably mutual.”

Azriel grit his teeth, humiliated at the idea of his friends discussing his pathetic, nonexistent love life behind his back.

“Well y’all obvious don’t know your asses from first base,” he snapped. “Because the minute Graysen showed up, she practically ran out of the house after him.”

Rhys winced, and Azriel immediately felt guilty.

“Sorry,” he said, slumping back down on the rock and looking down at his boots. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole about it. It just fucking sucks.”

“I get it,” Cash offered. “Nesta brought a guy into the bar once before were dating and it destroyed me.”

“Have you talked to her about it at all?” Rhys said. “I mean that was a dick move coming here with Graysen, but to be fair to her, you didn’t really give her much advance notice.”

Azriel shook his head, burying his face in his hands for a moment “I’m so fucking stupid. I knew she was back together with him. Did I think I was just gonna kiss her one time and she would break up with him, just like that?”

“I think you’re being to hard on yourself,” Cash offered. “Ellie’s always been weirdly hung up on him; it doesn’t mean she doesn’t also have feelings for you.”

“I just—can’t get invested again,” Azriel said, feeling his guts twisting into a sickening double helix as he remembered their conversation the night before. “And I think I blew it last night anyway. She happened to come down to the bar I went to after I gave you that Benadryl—“

“Yeah, not mad at about that, by the way,” Rhys cut in, but a look from Cash had him falling silent.

“—And she just caught me at the exact wrong time. I was drunk, and when she started asking why I hadn’t said anything before now, and I sort of snapped at her. I’m sure she hates me now, and I don’t really think I blame her. It’s not her fault I’m a chickenshit.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Cash said. “But I do think you need to go talk to her and clear the air. You’ll feel better either way.”

Azriel shook his head.

“I don’t want to get into the whole thing again.”

“Yeah, but if you fuck up your friendship by letting this fester, think of how shitty you’ll feel then.”

“Agreed,” Rhys chimed in. “Also, it’s my wedding day. I sort of don’t want you to fighting all night.”

“He’s got a point there,” Cash said, grinning. “Besides, not to betray her confidence or anything, but I found Ellie basically hiding from Graysen at the party last night. Something tells me it wasn’t just about him being a self-serving little prick.”

“And if you’d kissed me, there’s no way I’d be able to forget about it,” Rhys said. Honestly, Fey’s lucky you haven’t tried. I don’t know if we’d be here today if—“

“Shut up,” Azriel said, but he felt his friend relax as he gave a sheepish laugh.

“You should go as soon as we get back,” Cash said. “Things are only going to get crazier as the day wears on, and you want to catch her before the ceremony starts.”

Azriel nodded.

“I will, just—don’t tell Nesta, please. This is complicated enough as-is.”

Cassian feigned a shudder before laughing to himself

“Don’t worry, I won’t. She may be the love of my life, but I wouldn’t wish ‘War Path Nes’ on my worst enemy.”

Azriel dread must have shown on his face, because Cassian quickly added, “not that she’s on the war path. She’s just very protective where Fey and Ellie are concerned, and this Graysen thing has her all kinds of worked up.”

“If things do work out with you and Ellie, can we please let her loose on Graysen?” Rhys said, giving a wicked little smirk. “I’m morbidly fascinated by idea of a Nesta Archeron tirade.”

Cash laughed again.

“If I thought I could limit her to a verbal beating, I would. But I don’t think Vanserra will be very amused when she scatters bloody teeth in his lobby by punching that little prick in the face.”

Azriel felt himself smile despite everything, and seeming to sense they’d said enough, Cash and Rhys redirected their conversation to whether Lucien would take his chances pursuing Mor’s friend Vassa—who he’d seemed rather smitten with the night before—or if he’d go the safe route and pick up the Archeron’s family friend Claire Beddor instead.

Rhys, ever the hopeless romantic, had his money on Vassa, but Cash and Azriel both agreed it was more likely to be Claire, and that it was liable to come with a lot of clingy consequences Lucien wasn’t wholly unprepared for.

It had been liberating to focus on someone else’s life for a time, and Azriel felt much more relaxed by the time they returned to the resort ninety minutes later. 

He bid Rhys and Cash a quick farewell before making his way to the bridal suite, where Cash said the girls had been primping since mid-morning.

He ran a hand through his hair, still at war with himself as he stood staring at the gorgeous oak door of Feyre’s bridal suite. Deep down, he knew Cash and Rhys were right; he had to clear the air with Elain. He still felt sick about how selfish he’d been at the bar the night before, even if some part of it had probably needed to be said. Still, he had no real right to be frustrated with Elain now when he’d sat on his hands for two years instead of telling her how he felt.

He sighed again. He was pretty sure he’d blown it—if not by kissing her so abruptly at her house, then definitely by dressing her down last night—but he didn’t want to ruin what they had as friends, so he just needed to man up and apologize.

Besides, there was a selfish part of him that couldn’t stop obsessing over the fact that she’d kissed him back. Not just kissed him back, but run her hands all over him, as if some part of her wanted him as badly as he’d always wanted her. He would have thought the clusterfuck of the day before would have been enough to crush any hope he had of a future with Elain, but that the memory of her drawing her into him was enough kindling to keep it alive, and it was ultimately what prompted him to finally knock on the door, exhaling a big breath as he did.

He heard shuffling and a bevy of light female voices, and he shook out his left hand to relieve the tension. Oh shit. He realized a second too late that he had absolutely no guarantee that Elain would answer. It could just as easily be Feyre, or—

_Fuck._

Nesta stood framed in the doorway in a silk robe and curlers, and she leveled Azriel with the sort of assessing look that—even as her friend—made him want to fidget.

“May we help you?”

If it had been Feyre, he might have tried to schmooze a little, but with Nesta, any sort of chit chat would be pointless.

“Is Elain here?”

Nesta arched a brow at him, curved lips pulling together in an imperious pout. Of all the expressions in Nesta Archeron’s well-stocked arsenal, this was one of the most forbidding.  _Disney Villainess_ , Cash called it.

He wasn’t wrong.

“That depends,” Nesta said, crossing one her arm over the other. “Are you here to make her cry again?” Not waiting for a reply, she pressed on, “I know you two were at the bar last night, and I know that after you left, she sat there and cried for ten minutes.”

She poked his chest between accusations, and Azriel scowled. If there was one thing his relationship with Elain didn’t need, it was their family meddling in the middle of it.

“Jesus, what are you, the Okhrana?” he demanded, rubbing his chest. “How is this any of your business? Elain’s an adult.”

With this Nesta shut the door with a snap, expression melting from unpromising to vengeful.

“I’ll tell you how,” she said, voice pitched venomously low. “Because Elain and Feyre were still little when my parents died, and I had to raise them on my own.” She paused, eyes slitted now.  “So I don’t give a goddamn how old they get; Ellie and Fey will  _always_  be my babies, and anyone who makes them cry has to answer to me. Even you.” She crossed her arms and gave him an up-down. “Especially you, in fact. Honestly, Az, I expected so much better.”

Azriel loosed a tight breath, running a hand through his hair again. He could tell by now that some of the pomaded pieces on top were standing on end and he probably looked pretty pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nesta was right, and they both knew it. Brutal as her dress down had been, it was well-deserved. More importantly, it made seeing Elain feel that much more urgent. He knew she’d been upset when he left, but he had no idea he’d made her cry. If he’d known, he would have gone back and—

“Look, I fucked up, okay? I just need to talk to her so I can apologize.”

_And to find out where we stand without my stupid ego getting in the way._

Azriel was smart enough not to say that last part out loud,  but Nesta didn’t seem impressed either way.

“No,” she snapped. “Not okay! I have no idea what is going on with you two, but pull your shit together. This is Feyre’s wedding day, and I will not let you ruin it with your lovesick brooding.”

“I’m not lovesick,” Azriel protested, trying to ignore how well the epithet did probably fit. “And does Elain know you do this, make decisions for her behind her back?”

Nesta leveled him with a blank look.

“I’m going to take a calculated risk and bet that after you made her cry last night, Elain  _doesn’t_  want to see you.” She pursed her lips. “Now get out of my face, or I will knee you in the balls so hard you’ll be coughing swimmers for a week.”

The imagery was so visceral Azriel actually winced, and Nesta rolled her eyes and turned back to the door, making to slam it in his face. He caught it with his palm, and she gave him a sharp look over her shoulder.

“Don’t embarrass yourself by making a scene,” she snarled quietly.

“Please,” he said. “Just—tell Elain I was here, and that I’m sorry for everything that happened yesterday. Please Nesta, that’s all I’m asking.”

Nesta considered, and Azriel felt the last flicker of hope rise in his chest. However, when she hit him with  _Disney Villainess_  again, he knew he was sunk.

“No,” she said primly. “Go away.”

With that, she muscled the door closed, slamming it in his face. He swore, about to admit defeat and leave when the door opened again and his heartbeat picked up.

Maybe Elain had overheard what was happening and—

“One more thing,” Nesta said with cool bite. “Tell Cash I love him, but that his taste in friends sucks.”

She slammed the door again without another word.

Azriel stood staring at the door for another full minute after it slammed shut again, debating the merits of damning Nesta’s consequences and barging in the room anyway. However, it wasn’t in his nature to make a scene, and he doubted Elain would be impressed with him throwing a tantrum on her sister’s wedding day. Rhys certainly wouldn’t be, and Az didn’t want to put unnecessary strain on him on what was meant to be the best day of his life.

Azriel also considered just texting Elain directly, but he couldn’t help but be affected by Nesta’s barbs. Elain probably didn’t want to talk to him, and if he was being honest, he couldn’t blame her. He imagined how she must have felt when he snapped at her, and when he remembered he’d made her cry—

It was hard to describe how much he hated himself for it.

So he went to the bar instead, ordering an unnecessarily-expensive whiskey and running a hand through his hair as he stared into the glass without taking a sip. He knew he ought to shower and start getting ready—or at the very least, stop day drinking—but he found he was not the mood to start the celebration, even if the whole resort was already buzzing with anticipatory energy.

He promised himself when he sat down that he’d only stay for a few minutes, but somehow he still found himself at the bar an hour later, staring down into the same undrank glass. It was here that Cash found him, and his friend said nothing as he slid into the leather stool next to him, waiting for Azriel to speak.

He remained silent for a long minute, taking a sip of his drink before finally offering, “Nesta would like me to tell you that she loves you, but that your taste in friends sucks.”

Cash winced, running a hand through his own hair, which was unbound and wet from a recent shower.

“Yeah she texted me. I’m sorry, brother.”

Azriel pinched his lips, trying to bite back his choicest retorts for Cash’s sake.

“How is it that she knows everything?” He asked instead. “Without even talking to Elain, she somehow knew we were down here drinking together last night, and that got into a fight after.”

Cash laughed, rubbing his jaw.

“Working theory? She’s some sort of powerful but benevolent witch.”

Az glared into his glass again.

“No offense to you or your relationship, but I would strike benevolent.”

Cash laughed in a way that suggested he didn’t wholly disagree, though it faded to a sympathetic frown as he continued to assess Azriel.

“Was she that harsh?”

“She read me the riot act, then refused to even tell Elain I came by. Pretty standard Nesta fare.”

“Well have you texted Elain?” When Azriel only replied with another sip, Cash continued. “Listen, I love Nesta more than anything, but she isn’t her sisters’ keeper. Elain can decide for herself if she wants to talk to you.”

“She doesn’t.”

“You don’t know that.“

“She would have texted me if she did. We talk almost every day; if she wanted to speak to me, she wouldn’t let Nesta’s meddling stop her.”

“You talk every day?” Cash asked, grinning in spite of everything. “Damn, you two really are—“

He broke off at Azriel’s expression.

“Sorry, not the point. And listen, you want to talk to her and haven’t texted, so how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

“I was such a dick to her,” Azriel lamented, running a hand through his hair again. “And Graysen is still here, and it’s her little sister’s wedding day. I need to just give her some space and not ruin it with what Nesta has so generously described as my ‘lovesick brooding’. I will call her when I get back to LA.”

He made to take another sip, and Cash took the glass from him.

“No offense, dude, but I think you’re making a huge mistake. Forget Nesta for a second. This whole thing started because you didn’t tell Elain how you felt. You’re going to regret it if you make that mistake a second time.”

“Well no offense to you,” Azriel snapped back. “But I didn’t ask you to weigh in, so just back off.”

“She’s not your dad,” Cash said, voice sharper now. “Stop assuming she doesn’t want you just because he never has.”

Azriel slid off his chair and back a step, feeling as if he’d just been punched in the gut.

“ _Low_  blow, Cash.”

Cassian softened at this, and he set down the glass to take a step in Azriel’s space, one Az countered with several in the opposite direction. He didn’t revel in physical contact at the best of times, and right now he felt like he might die if Cassian tried to comfort him.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Well don’t. All you and Nesta’s meddling has done is make this thing worse, so please, just fucking butt out.”

“Do you want me to—“

“Obviously not!” Azriel said, feeling the comment about his dad nesting like an oily serpent in his belly. “I’m an adult; I don’t need you cleaning up my messes for me.”

Azriel peeled a fifty off the money clip in his pocket and tossed it on the bar before turning to go.

“I’m going to shower. I’ll see you at five.”

“If you do this, you’re going to lose her,” Cash called, and this comment had Az spinning back on a heel. He tried to force severity into his tone, but when he spoke again, he just sounded defeated.

“That would imply she was mine to lose. She has a boyfriend, and she’s happy. If you care about either of us at  _all_ , you’ll let this go.”

“Fine,” Cash said, extending his hands in a placatory gesture. “I’ll let it go. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Azriel said, trying to wrestle an apology off his tongue as well. However, he felt like he’d swallowed sand, so he just nodded and headed back to his room, slumping against the door as it snicked shut.

Holy Hell, it was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

“Oh Fey,” Elain said, her throat tight as she watched Nesta and Mor slide Feyre into her wedding gown. “You look so beautiful.”

“Like a faerie queen,” Mor agreed, adjusting the tulle skirt as Nesta offered Feyre a hand to step into her soft slippers.

“Rhysand is very lucky,” Nesta said, voice soft. “I’m so happy you found someone worthy of you.”

At this her eyes caught Elain’s the mirror, and the latter turned, busying herself with pouring another glass of champagne. After what had happened with Az and Graysen, she didn’t think she could handle Nesta’s judging her right then. Still, that one glance from her sister has said it all.

_Hold out for someone you loves you as much._

The insinuation that Graysen didn’t wasn’t lost on her, and she fought off the nagging sensation her sister might be right.

It was a traitorous thought, but one that had been plaguing her with varying degrees of urgency since the minute she’d gotten in the car with him the previous afternoon. He did seem to genuinely care for her, but there was no way to pretend it was anything like the way Rhys cared for Feyre, or Cash for Nesta. Hell, he’d admitted that he’d only said ‘I love you’ the first time because she’d said it first. It was only later that he’d told had taken him another six months to actually feel the same.

No, that wasn’t fair. He did love her; he’d told her so that morning—even if it had been while he’d been trying to slip a hand between her legs. Maybe it wasn’t the same way that Rhys loved Feyre, but that didn’t mean his way of loving was somehow lesser.

There was no denying that things with Graysen were badly in need of repair, especially after this weekend, but it was nothing so broken that she couldn’t still fix it.

And Az—she’d have to fix that, too.

She’d been desperate to clear the air with him all day, but the look he’d flashed her before leaving the bar the night before always stopped her from texting him like she wanted to. Az hated talking about his feelings, and she sensed she’d already pushed him to his breaking point. She owned it to him—and to Feyre and Rhys—not to push any more this weekend. Once the wedding was over and they all had a chance regroup, she would go down to LA and beg for his forgiveness and explain that she did love him, but it just couldn’t be in the way he deserved.

Once maybe, but now—no matter what happened with Graysen, she didn’t want Az feeling like he was some sort of consolation prize or rebound. He was neither, and he deserved someone that didn’t come with such messy baggage. She could see now that she’d always kept him too close, and that she needed to give him to the space to find that someone without judgment or interruption.

She sighed. This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined this weekend with Az would go, but when she’d considered what she’d envisioned—the two of them staying close and making well-intentioned fun of the sensational life Feyre and Rhys lived—she realized how selfish a dream that had been. Some part of her had always known how Azriel had felt about her and how she felt in return, and she’d been abusing that closeness to keep from being lonely in all the places she’d couldn’t make Graysen fit into her life.

“You okay, Ellie?” Feyre asked, and Elain flashed the same blithe smile she’d always used to win people over, and to keep them from digging too deeply.

That was who she was: the pretty Archeron, the uncomplicated one, the happy-go-lucky peacemaker. That’s who Feyre needed her to be. Not the fickle, selfish mess.

“You looked a million miles away just now.”

“I’m just excited for you!” Elain said, fingering the pearl pendant she wore. “Can you believe its your wedding day?”

Feyre laughed, and Elain felt something tight in her chest uncurl as Feyre turned back to the mirror.

“It’s just sort of hitting me,” she admitted, eyes a little teary. “I’m so happy.”

“And we are happy for your, Bug,” Nesta said, resting her hands on Feyre’s slim waist.

“It’s just so crazy how things fall into place,” Feyre continued, glancing down to admire her resplendent ring. “The night I met Rhys, I was so convinced I’d never be able to get over Tam. I didn’t even want to go to that party.”

“You’re welcome,” Nesta said, smirking. “As always, I was right. And please, don’t foul mine ears with that name.”

Feyre turned to grin at her sister over her shoulder, and Elain had to take another sip of champagne to hide a grimace. She remembered that night too, and how she’d spent the majority of the evening on the phone arguing with Graysen instead of enjoying the party. How different would things have been, she wondered, if she’d just left her phone in her purse and enjoyed the party instead of rising to his baiting texts ?

Probably a lot different, considering that was also the night she’d met Az. She could still remember the way her heart had leapt to her throat when she’d heard him say his name that first time, or how he’d come out onto the freezing patio to bring her a drink when she’d retreated there to cry.

Gods, things could have been so different.

But they weren’t, she reminded herself, calling the bouquet Graysen had sent her after the fight to mind. Things with Graysen had gotten significantly more serious after that incident, and there was no guarantee anything would have come from that night, anyway. Had she and Az hit it off or gone home together, it could have fizzled out as easily as it could have flourished, possibly damaging Feyre and Rhys’s burgeoning relationship—or Cash and Nesta’s established one—in the progress.

No, she couldn’t go there. She’d always believed in fate, and this was clearly what fate had intended. If she and Az had been meant to be, that party would have taken place two weeks earlier, while she and Graysen were still on a break. But then if it had, Feyre would have still been dating Tam, and...

“Hello? We’re losing you again!” Feyre laughed, waving her hand in front of Elain’s face. “Do we need to take that glass away from you, Ellie?”

Elain forced her brightest smile back, setting the glass down.

“Sorry, sorry!” She said. “I’m here! Just—imagining the look on Rhys’s face when he sees you walking down the aisle. Do you think he’s going to cry?”

“Of course he is,” Nesta deadpanned. “I’ve never met a man more in touch with his emotions than Rhysand. I’m frankly a little embarrassed for you.”

Feyre flashed her a sardonic look.

“Oh yes, Kettle? Hello, this the is Pot. Just wanted to tell you that you’re looking rather black today—” she said, talking into an invisible phone that Nesta was nevertheless trying to wrestle away from her.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Nesta said, laughing.

“Oh my god, Nes, be serious!” Mor said. “Cash literally melts into a besotted puddle every time someone even mentions your name. He is going to be  _bawling_  on your wedding day.”

“And just so we know, when will that be?” Feyre added. “Rhys and I have a bet and I’m not above cheating a little.”

Nesta flushed, and Elain felt her stomach clenching. It didn’t escape her notice that no one had thought to ask if Elain and Graysen would be getting married any time soon.

“Let’s just get you married first,” Nesta said. “Then we can talk about me and Cash.”

“Speaking of,” Mor said, consulting her phone. “It’s about time that we start heading down. Lucien just texted to say that Rhys is clear.”

“You ready?” Nesta said, squeezing Feyre’s waist again.

“So ready,” Feyre said, beaming at her reflection a final time. “I can’t believe that in an hour, I’m going to be a Sadaghi.”

“Welcome to the family,” Mor said, resting her chin on Feyre’s shoulder before murmuring an endearment in Persian and kissing Feyre on the cheek.

“I should go grab Graysen,” Elain said, coming forward to kiss her sister’s other cheek. “You look incredible, Fey. I love you.”

“You too,” Feyre said, pushing forward to press her forehead to Elain’s. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Elain let her eyes flutter closed.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Bug.”

“Go,” Mor said, gently shooing Elain. “Everyone’s probably already waiting!”

Elain blew Feyre a final kiss and left the bridal suite, taking the elevator to her own room and knocking.

“Gray, you ready? It’s time.”

When he didn’t answer she admitted herself, trying not to bristle when she found him sitting on the bed with his laptop in his lap, his shoes off and his dinner jacket slung over a chair.

“I just need like five minutes,” Graysen said, not looking up. “I’m on the last section of the article.”

“It’s after five; we’ve got to go.”

At this he did glance at her, eyes flitting over her glittering champagne-colored gown before flicking back to his screen.

“Okay, hang on.”

“Gray, come on,” she said, fighting the knot tightening in her throat. “We don’t have time for this.”

He glanced up at her again and, seeing her expression, closed with laptop grudgingly.

“Can I pee first?”

“No,” Elain grit out. “C’mon.”

“It will take—“

“You should have done that before. Let’s go.”

Graysen jaw tightened, but he refrained from rolling his eyes as he slipped into his shoes and grabbed his jacket.

They left the suite in silence, though he offered Elain his hand as they took the elevator down to the lobby.

“What do you think of my dress?” she asked finally. She felt somewhat pathetic for needing the validation, but she found herself needing it nonetheless.

His blues eyes flicked over her before he smiled.

“It’s nice. You look pretty.”

Pretty.

Elain tried not to let that bother her. Not gorgeous or beautiful or stunning.

Pretty.

He said it in the same way he might have had she asked about a flower arrangement or a painting he didn’t really understand—as if he knew it were the right answer without really agreeing with the sentiment.

“Just pretty?”

“You always look pretty, El.”

She nodded, hating herself for now much it stung.

“Thank you. You look great, too.”

He grinned.

“Thanks, babe.”

She felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and fought not to stiffen when he extricated his hand to pull it out and glance at it.

“Fuck,” he said, glaring down at the screen even as she lead him across the lobby.

“What?”

“Cousins is hurt; I have to completely reset my fantasy lineup for tomorrow. God, today is the fucking  _worst_.”

She stiffened again, and this time he finally noticed, because he shot her a guilty look and re-pocketed his phone.

“I’ll just reset it after the ceremony.”

“Thanks,” she grit out, hating how close she was to crying.

“I’m glad I’m here,” he said in supplication, squeezing her hand as the descended the stairs to where the ceremony was being held. “Thank you for convincing me to come.”

She bit her lip, trying to keep back all the things she wanted to say: that she shouldn’t have  _had_  to convince him, and that right now, she wasn’t at all glad he was there.

Luckily by that time they’d reached where the bridal party waited—the rest of the guests already seated—and she was spared from answering. However, he seemed to finally sense that he’d upset her, because he held onto her hand when she went to join her sisters, pulling her back to face him.

“I love you, Elain,” he breathed, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, presumably at Nesta, he bent and kissed her.

“Love you, too,” she mumbled, wishing he hadn’t said that in front of the others. “See you after.”

He nodded and trotted off the where the rest of guests were gathered as Elain turned to face her sisters.

“Nice of you to join us,” Nesta snapped before he was even out of earshot.

“Baby, not now,” Cash said, smiling at Elain. “You look incredible, Ellie.”

“And you’re right on time,” Feyre added, smiling as she bounced on her heels. “Let’s get me married!”

She grinned up at Lucien, who was escorting her down the aisle, and Elain flashed her sister a watery smile as she accepted a bouquet from one of the fifteen hundred wedding coordinators that Rhys had hired before raising her chin and meeting Az’s gaze for the first time.

He looked unbearably handsome in the navy tux he wore—this one with black satin lapels that matched Cash and Lucien’s—and the gentle look he bent on her nearly broke her heart.

“Hey,” he said simply, offering his arm. “You ready?”

She nodded, grateful to him for at least pretending he didn’t hate her. He was wearing the same sinful Givenchy cologne he always did, and she found herself relaxing when the scent washed over her. It reminded her of long car rides up the California coast and nights spent talking on deserted balconies at parties. It was an intoxicating smell, one that spoke of refined taste and masculine allure, but for Elain, it was more than any of that—it was a safe harbor.

Az’s gaze was warm when he caught her looking at him, and she felt the restless part of of her settle.

It was fine. They were fine, she and Graysen were fine, it was all—fine.

Fine.

“Okay, people, showtime,” another coordinator said, listening to something in her headset. “ Mor and Hel are first, Elain and Azriel, you next, then finally Nesta and Cash.”

Elain bit her lip as she threaded her arms through Azriel’s and they made their way across the hundred or so feet between where the bridal party had congregated and where the rest of the assembly now waited.

The walk felt twice as long as it had the day before, and she found her feet unsteady as they made their way along the earthen path, though whether that were nerves or the ill-wrought combination of high heels and soft ground, she wasn’t sure.

“You alright?” Azriel breathed as she wobbled again right as they reached the the chair-lined walkway up the aisle.

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “I’m just not good in heels, I guess.”

Azriel was quiet for a moment before his arm tightened on hers.

“You can lean on me if you need; I’ve got you.”

She stole a glance up at him and was rocked back at the sparity in his gaze. She heard the statement for what it was—a peace offering—and the quiet affection in it made every single cell in her body ache.

Fuck, she should have talked to him earlier, should have cleared the air and told him how sorry she was and how much he still meant to her. After that poignant admission, she felt like the worst sort of coward for not saying any of that earlier, and the regret left her wondering how she was going to stand across from him for the whole ceremony without bursting into selfish tears.

Unfortunately, she’d run out of aisle to contemplate it, and after a brief look, she was forced to let go of Azriel’s arm as they each arced toward their respective parties. Elain’s throat began to burn as she watched Nesta and Cassian make their way up the aisle. As always, Cash was studying her as if she’d hung the moon, and for once Nesta was unabashedly letting him, her face breaking into a dazzling grin as she rested her head on his shoulder for a second and he whispered something in her ear.

The assembly gave a short cheer as they paused to kiss at the end of the aisle before Rhys playfully waved them on. The music changed, and his crushing blue eyes glittered as everyone rose and Feyre glided in on Lucien’s arm, beaming.

Rhys immediately bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes even as they lit up. After a minute of watching Feyre make her way toward him, his control broke, and he gave a joyous half-laugh, half-sob as Cash clapped him on the back. This made Feyre laugh, her own eyes sparkling with tears as she bathed in the glow of Rhys’s gaze, which faded from adoring to reverent as she drew closer.

“ _I love you_ ,” she mouthed, and he nodded, laughing again before quickly wiping his eyes so he could take her hands in his.

“Fuck,” he breathed when they stood facing each other. ”I can’t stop crying. You look so beautiful.”

Feyre laughed, pressing her forehead to his and letting her eyes fall shut as he cupped her face in his hands.

“Hands off, Sadaghi,” Amren said, smacking Rhys in the thigh with the ornate hand fan she was carrying. “And pull it together.”

This had everyone in the assembly laughing, and Rhys begrudgingly obeyed, his hands finding Feyre’s again as Amren began the ceremony.

Elain found herself holding it together fairly well through the readings Amren gave regarding the nature of love, marriage, and sacrifice. She even kept composed during Feyre’s short but poignant vows, where she promised to love Rhys until the sun revolved around the earth. However, when Rhys pulled a well-worn piece of paper from his pocket and began to read, she felt her composure slipping.

“So I love you,” he quoted. “Because the whole universe conspired to help me find you.”

In an instant, Elain found herself transported back to that first night she’d met Az two years ago. They’d been standing alone of the patio, their conversation wooden enough that Elain had felt her initial attraction fading. He certainly wouldn’t have been the first LA guy she’d met that all looks and no substance. Still, he was a friend of Cash’s, and he’d been kind enough to check on her even though it was freezing, so she’d stayed where she was and let him bumble through.

After failing on the subjects of weather, LA traffic, and the food being served inside, they’d awkwardly stumbled into comparing interests. They’d largely struck out on music and movies, and finally ventured to books.

“ _The Alchemist_ ,” Elain had said when he’d asked her favorite. “Have you read it?”

Azriel had considered this for a long moment, and Elain remembered feeling almost relieved that he wasn’t the intellectual type she always fell for, brilliant and inquisitive like Graysen. Then, just as she’d prepared to make to a polite excuse and escape him, he’d looked back at her.

“‘ _My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,_ ’ the boy told the alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky. ‘ _Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams_.”’

Elain could still feel her heart as it had sped up, first to a gallop, and then to an all-out sprint, when he’d turned back to look at her, hazel eyes glittering.

“Reading that book gave me to courage to leave my dad and stepmom’s toxic house and make something of my life,” he’d finally admitted.

It had only been when she got to know him better that Elain realized how much that admission had likely cost him, and as she glanced across the way in time to see him avert his gaze from hers, she wondered how she’d ever let a guy like Az slip through her fingers. Truly, she must have been fucking  _blind_.

Her eyes stung with tears as she tried to refocus on what Amren was saying as Feyre and Rhys exchanged rings and she declared them officially husband and wife.

Just as he had the day before, Rhys dipped Feyre to give her a wanton kiss, and Elain was grateful for the distraction. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have lasted thinking about Az even as he did his obvious best to avoid looking at her.

She needed a drink, like, yesterday.

Her throat was dry and aching by the time she took Azriel’s arm again and started back down the aisle. She ached to mention  _The Alchemist_ , or for him to do it, but instead they walked in silence, the tacit truce from their first trip seemingly forgotten. Az was rigid as they walked, and he let her arm slip from his the minute they reached the clearing where pictures were to be taken.

In the absence of his company, Elain looked around for Graysen, hating herself when she realized part of her didn’t really care where he was.

No, that wasn’t true. Of course she cared. She just couldn’t always set aside the melancholic romanticist in her that was moved by what could have been . It was an art historian’s curse, and one she realistically knew she couldn’t let rule her. The timing with Az just hadn’t been right, and she had worked hard for what she’d built with Graysen. For now, she had to let that be enough.

Pictures were mercifully short, and Graysen did show up halfway through to bring her a drink, even if his attention was still glued to his phone, where he continued to set his fantasy football lineup.

Dinner, on the other hand, seemed to last an eternity. 

She found upon arriving at the table that Az had convinced Mor’s friend Vassa to take his place at their table so he could sit with Mor and Briar at their table instead, and though Elain knew it was probably for the best, it didn’t make her feel any less guilty.

Besides that, it meant she had to listen to Lucien flirt with both Vassa and Claire Beddor, all while Graysen continued to not-so-subtly glance at his wrist to check the time. She glanced at the head table where Nesta and Cash sat with Feyre and Rhys, the four of them laughing as they clinked glasses.

She wished she could go join them, even knowing that if she did, it would have to be without Graysen. Even with all the champagne she’d drank, there was no way Nesta would ever deign to suffer through another meal with Graysen. She’d nearly ripped his head off the last time they’d tried, and Elain had no delusions her sister had warmed to him any since then.

It broke her heart, knowing that as long as she was with him, she’d always be on the outside with them. Even if Elain could get them to accept him, it would never be like it was with Rhys and Cash, who’d been best friends in their own right for almost a decade. She imagined years into the future, when the four of them would take their families on vacation together. If Elain was still with Gray, would she even be invited? It hurt to realize she wasn’t sure she would.

The thought made her eyes sting, and she was grateful when Cash got up to give his speech. He talked about how he’d first met Rhys in London eight years ago, when Cash was a junior sommelier at the restaurant in Rhys’s father’s fancy hotel. He talked about how they’d clashed before growing to love each other like brothers. He then talked about Feyre, and how he’d adored her through Nesta’s eyes even before he met her, and how honored he was to watch two people he cherished cherish each other in return.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when he finished, embracing both Rhys and Feyre before giving Nesta a soft kiss and handing her the mic. Elain steeled herself; she’d held it together relatively well during Cash’s speech, but Nesta had always been a beautiful wordsmith, and Elain was sure whatever she said was going to be an emotional punch to the gut.

“I know all of you are expecting some overdrawn soliloquy,” she began, and everyone laughed, nodding to each other that it was exactly what they expected. “But as Shakespeare once wrote, ‘brevity is the soul of wit’, so I will attempt to keep this short and sweet.”

“I was sixteen when our parents died, but Feyre was only ten, so she’s always been more than just my little sister; she and Elain are the lights of my life, and the two points that have always burned brightest.”

She turned to Feyre.

“Fey, I have fallen more in love with you with every painting you’ve drawn me, and every knee you’ve skinned, and every silly joke you’ve ever told. I remember thinking when you start dating that the day I had to give you up to someone else was going to be one of the hardest days of my life.”

Feyre’s eyes glimmered with tears, and Nesta flashed her a watery smile of her own before turning to Rhys.

“Rhysand, you’ve made it very easy. From the beginning, you’ve loved my sister with an open and generous heart, and under your care, I’ve watched her thrive. You’re also—I’m sometimes loathed to admit—a pretty fun person to be around, and I’m proud to call you my friend. But even if I didn’t know you at all, the fact you’ve won the loyalty of two of the most important people in my life would be enough. Thank you for who you’ve been to Cash, and for bringing him back to LA so we could find each other. Mostly, thank you for loving my Fey Rae almost as much as I do. Many happy returns to you both, Cassian and I are  _honored_  to share this day with you.”

With this she set down the mic to hug Feyre, and feeling herself beginning to unravel, Elain leapt from her seat, muttering an excuse about needing the bathroom before slipping out the doors and onto the patio.

She took several steadying breath to calm her tears before sinking into one of the pool loungers and putting her head in her hands. She wasn’t even sure what she was so upset about, she only knew she was.

She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t pull it together and go enjoy this day with her sisters, but she couldn’t help but take a moment to lament the choices she’d made that had distanced her from them, even if those choices had lead her to Graysen.

But it wasn’t just about Nesta and Feyre—not wholly. It was about knowing that she could have had something very similar to what they shared, and she’d eschewed it for someone she wasn’t fully convinced ever cared.

Even if he did, this weekend and made her seriously question if he cared enough. Graysen was her first love, and she’d always been sure he’d be her last love. But now—

“There you are,” Graysen called, coming to sit next to her on the lounger and smoothing her hair back off her face. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing that bright smile again, even as she attempted to bask in his concerned expression. Still, there was something slightly vacant in his gaze. Or maybe that was just her selfish imagination.

No, it was definitely her imagination. He’d come out here to make sure she was okay. He really was trying to—

“You about ready to go?”

She pulled back.

“Go?”

“If we leave tonight, I can get in a few extra hours of studying in tomorrow morning before the Vik’s play tomorrow night.” When he noted the incredulous look on her face, he quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’ve had hardly anything to drink; I’m good to drive.”

“It’s not about that!” She snapped, getting to her feet. “Graysen, are you fucking insane? This is my sister’s wedding! We aren’t leaving!”

“Why?” He shot back. “You’ve obviously miserable, and if I have to watch Claire try and grab Lucien’s dick one more time, I’m gonna lose my dinner.”

“You cannot be this selfish,” Elain said, pacing several steps away. “ _Tell me_  you aren’t so selfish that you want to leave my sister’s wedding weekend so you can find out if you’re going to win in fantasy this week!”

“Whatever,” he shot back. “This isn’t about fantasy. You have been in a terrible mood since I picked you up yesterday, and you are clearly just trying to start a fight. Is this because I haven’t proposed, because I told you: until I graduate, law school has to come first.”

“This is not about law school,” she snarled. “This is about you always privileging what you want over what I need!”

He had the gall to roll his eyes, and she debated shoving him in the pool.

“Look, I’m sorry your sisters hate me, but I don’t understand what you expect me to do about it.”

“Try harder!” She said, shoving his shoulder when he dared take a step in her direction. “Come to San Francisco when we have family dinners! Tell them you say hi when I’m on the phone with them!  _Show me_  that you care enough to put in the work!”

“So you want me to lie, and pretend that I like them? Honestly, Elain, I don’t. They make it _impossible_.”

That hit Elain like a slap to the face, and she felt tears well up at the impact.

“Get out,” she said, voice hoarse with the effort of holding back her tears. “Just leave.”

Graysen only rolled his eyes again.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. Get out of my sight. I don’t need you ruining this weekend more than you already have.”

Graysen bared his teeth.

“What is your problem? This is nothing new, and you know I love you! That’s all that should matter. Besides, this isn’t insurmountable; they don’t even live in LA.”

“This isn’t just about my sisters!” She snarled. “This is about you showing up, and giving a shit about the things that matter to me!”

“Showing up?” he repeated, voice gritted with scorn. “Are you fucking kidding me? What do you call this? You think I care if your sister is marrying some rich prick? For the record, I don’t!”

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” she said, hating herself for the hot tears that leaked out. “Thank you  _so_  much for your candor. Feel free to shove it up your ass, because we are done.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but something seemed to crack open in her chest at the words, and for the first time, she knew she really meant them. The realization was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. 

It was over; she was free.

For his part, Graysen looked temporarily stunned into silence, as if he also sensed something had changed.

“We’re done,” Elain repeated. “ _I_  am done. You’re selfish and spoiled, and you’ve only ever cared about me in relation to how I make  _you_  feel. I deserve better, and I never want to see you again.”

“You can’t just break up with me like that,” he said, but she could hear an edge of desperation sliding in. “We practically live together! What about all the stuff I have at—“

“I will mail it to you,” she said, pulling off the tiffany’s pendant he’d bought her for graduation and throwing it at his feet. “And take this; I don’t want it.”

She turned to saunter off like she was in a Lemonade video—yellow dress, baseball bat, and all—but he grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to hurt.

“You can’t just walk away. Three years, and you’re just going to walk away?”

She looked down at his hand and back up, hardly recognizing the man she saw glaring back.

“Take your hands off me.”

“No,” he said, ignoring her as she wriggled in his grip. “Not until we work this out! Goddamnit, I love you, Elain. You can’t just—“

“Problem?”

They both looked up as Azriel strolled onto the patio, hands tucked into his pockets of his tux as he surveyed them. His expression was neutral, but Elain could see the truth in his eyes; he was furious, and struggling to contain it. Using the distraction, Elain tugged out of Graysen’s grip and rubbed her arm, feeling decidedly less empowered after his manhandling.

“No offense, man,” Graysen said, attempting to string an arm across Elain’s shoulder. “But stay out of this.”

She immediately pushed him off, and Azriel’s gaze hardened.

“None taken,” Azriel said, tone still mild. “Now back up, and don’t touch her again.”

Graysen’s lip curled slightly, and he glanced between Azriel and Elain before his eyes slid, contemptuous, back to the former.

“Of course you’d want to get involved,” he said, disdainful. “God, why am I even surprised you’re out here? You’ve always been her fucking shadow, following her around and just waiting for your chance to swoop in. You’re pathetic.”

“Don’t speak to him like that,” Elain said, a protective urge swelling in against the tide of embarrassment and anger. “Just leave.”

Graysen growled his annoyance, rolling his head back to run a hand through his hair before turning back to Elain.

“Can’t you see what this is, Ellie? He’s just trying to break us up so he can get in your fucking pants!”

“This has nothing to do with him! I broke up with you before he even got out of here, so please,  _for once_ , just do something for me and get out of my sight! I don’t want you here.”

“I’m not leaving,” Graysen said. “Not without you. Enough of this horseshit, Elain. Get your stuff and let’s go.”

He reached for her hand a third time, and Azriel slid between them, giving Graysen a hearty shove.

“Are you fucking deaf,” Azriel said, voice silky and low. It was a tone Elain had never heard him use before, and it raised the hairs on her arms even as it made her knees a little weak. “Back. Up.”

“Or what?” Graysen challenged, shoving Azriel right back.

Instead of rising to the bait, Azriel merely turned, his eyes finding Elain again over his shoulder to ensure she was all right. She nodded to signal she was, and she watched something rigid in his bearing go languid.

“Or what, you up-jumped prick?” Graysen said again. “I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not going to let you fuck my girlfriend, either.”

Azriel’s fist clenched, but instead of punching Graysen, he merely flashed a dour smile.

“Don’t make me push your stupid ass in the pool.”

“And I’m not your girlfriend anymore,” Elain said, clenching her own fists. Az might not want to punch Graysen, but she certainly did. “Get out.”

“If I leave,” Graysen warned. “That’s it. We’re done for good this time.”

“Good!” Elain snapped back. “Finally something we can agree on. Goodbye, Graysen, I hope you have the life you deserve.”

She turned, feeling lighter than she had in ages, when Graysen growled from behind her, “Fuck you, bitch.”

Elain felt tears spring to her eyes as three years of callousness and uncaring filtered through her. Maybe it made her a fragile snowflake, but hearing Graysen call her that still hurt  _immensely_.

However, before she could think to strike out at him for it , Azriel hit Graysen hard in the chest with the heel of his hand, knocking the younger man off his feet.

Graysen failed gracelessly for a moment, trying to regain his footing before losing his balance completely and flopping backwards, his back hitting the water a second later.

Azriel was on his phone before Graysen even surfaced.

“Vanserra, it’s Azriel. Graysen’s in your pool. You might want to send security to come fish him out.”

At this, Elain felt an unexpected laugh bubbling up, and Azriel’s head snapped to her, misinterpreting the sound as a sob.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, watching as Graysen dragged himself out of the pool and stomped off in the opposite direction, flipping them off as he went. “I actually feel amazing.”

Azriel didn’t share in her gaiety by smiling, but his eyes glittered as he drank her in.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think he would have done anything, but still.”

Azriel considered this—and her—before nodding his head towards the ballroom.

“Let’s get you a drink, kid.”

Elain’s smile faltered a little at that. It was exactly what Rhys and Cash would have said, and she hated herself for all the ways in which it stung. Not a pet name, or even a nickname like he normally would have used. Kid, as if she were a little sister he’d just bailed out of a scrape.

For all she knew, that’s exactly what she was to him now: just another part of his patchwork family, their one chance at being more already long forgotten.

She deserved this, she reminded herself. She’d wrought this disaster, and if him calling her kid mean that he forgave her for her selfishness, she needed to take that and be happy with it.

So she nodded stiffly, smiling again before following him inside. He disappeared from her side the minute they appeared, Feyre and Nesta flocking to her at once.

“Where have you been?” Feyre said as Nesta demanded, “Is everything alright?”

Elain laughed a second time, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes.

“Graysen and I just broke up,” she said. “For real this time.”

“Oh my gosh,” Feyre said, clearly trying to contain her glee for Elain’s sake. Nesta showed no such restraint, and she turned to smirk at Cash over her shoulder.

“It’s a midsummer miracle.”

“Nes!” Feyre said. “Don’t be insensitive!”

“No, it’s fine,” Elain said, touching Feyre’s cheek. “I actually feel so much better that it’s finally over. And now I can finally focus on enjoying the weekend with you.”

“I love you!” Feyre squealed, pulling her into a hug.

“I love you, too,” Elain breathed, reveling in her sister’s embrace.

Nesta joined the hug, wrapping her slim arms around them both. This, Elain reminded herself, was home. Any guy who didn’t want to share in this with her had no business in her life.

After a moment she glanced up, only to make eye contact with Azriel. Speaking of home...

He lifted a glass of champagne to indicate it was for her, and she smiled, nodding her head in thanks. However, before she could extricate herself and go talk to him, Nesta called for shots.

Az remained on the far side of the circle their circle as Cash brought back a tray, handing a glass to each of them.

“To Feyre and Rhys, the most annoyingly perfect couple on earth!”

“And to Ellie for being a badass queen,” Mor added. “Make that check come at they neck, girl!”

“Here, here,” Rhys said. “Let’s drink!”

Elain gratefully tipped her glass back, trying not to shudder as the vodka slid down her throat. However, it warmed her belly as it went down, and she smiled at her sisters again as Feyre dragged Rhys onto the dance floor, watching as Nesta and the others followed until only Elain and Azriel were left.

She thought at first to make a joke of it, remarking on how this was where they always seemed to find themselves at Rhys’s parties. However, when she remembered the way he’d avoided her gaze after the ceremony, the words caught in her throat. After a minute she found herself floundering, and desperate to say something before he walked away, she blurted, “Thank you again for coming to rescue me.”

Az only pursed his lips, something complex sparkling in his eyes. Good  _God_ , he was handsome.

“You don’t need rescuing, El. You never have.”

“I know,” she said, trying to avoid looking at his lips. “Even still, thank you.”

He nodded, glancing down into the whiskey he was holding. Elain tried to remember the promise to herself that she’d give Az space—that she’d let him go—but standing here with him, she couldn’t quite figure out how.

While she was still scrounging for the right words to apologize, he took a step towards her, raising a hand as if he might run it down her arm. Her pulse trilled at the notion, not bothering to slow any as he reconsidered and drove it into his raven-dark hair instead. She waited, breathless, as he glanced at the ceiling for support for a second before his eyes finally flicked back to her.

“El, about yesterday—“

Her head snapped up, heart pounding hard enough now that she felt slightly dizzy. However, just as he swallowed and made to continue, Nesta’s voice came over the speaker.

“This is for our sister Elain, a strong, independent  _wo-man_.”

“We love you, Ellie,” Feyre added. “ Come play with us!”

Elain groaned at the introductory chords of a familar Taylor Swift song, grinning despite herself when the verse began.

_I remember when we broke up the first time, saying, ‘this is it, I’ve had enough,’ cuz like..._

She glanced to where Nesta and Feyre were dancing then back to Azriel, and he gave a soft smile.

“Go,” he said, jerking his head towards the dance floor. “We’ll catch up later.”

She bit her lip.

“Promise?”

The smile slipped a bit as he continued to study her, but he nodded.

“Promise.”

Some absurd part of her yearned to grab for his hand, to squeeze the way she might have before all this had happened. She didn’t though, because it  _had_  happened, and now—she was single. She was single and so was he, and she had no idea what that meant for them.

“See you in a bit, then,” she finally got out, and he flashed a quick turn of his lips again before taking an ambitious sip of whiskey.

“See you then.”

She turned, jogging a little to where Nesta and Feyre were singing and dancing before sliding into their midst and joining in.

She’d told herself that she’d only stay for a song or two and then go and find Az, but after Taylor Swift it had been “Single Ladies” and after that it was “I Will Survive”, each dedicated to Elain and her newfound freedom.

One thing she had to say for her sisters, they always seemed to know exactly how to make her feel better, and time just seemed to fade as they laughed and drank together. Before she knew it, the DJ was announcing the last song of the evening.

She beamed, pushing some wisps of hair from her dewy face as she watched Feyre melt into Rhys’s arms just as the strings of Etta James’s “At Last” began.

She casually glanced around, pretending to herself she wasn’t looking for someone in particular as couples began gravitating together.

“Mind if I cut in?”

She turned, smiling again as she accepted Lucien’s hand and pressed her cheek to his chest.

“How are you holding up?” He asked after a minute of swaying.

She craned her neck back to smile at him, a gesture which he returned.

“I feel so much better,” she admitted. “I think I’ve known for awhile that he didn’t make me happy, but it’s a hard thing to admit to yourself after you’re invested so much time and energy.”

Lucien made a lulling sound of agreement, running a hand down the back of her head.

“I know Nes and I have given you a hard time, but I want you to know that I appreciate how difficult it is to fall out of love with someone. I’m really proud of you for standing up for yourself, El.”

“Honestly I’m just embarrassed I let this go on for so long.”

“Don’t be,” Lucien assured her. “That shit’s hard.”

“I know,” Elain said, feeling another smile tugging at her mouth. “But if I’d known it was going to feel this amazing, it would have done it like two years ago.”

Lucien’s lips quirked in a sardonic smile.

“Two years,” he repeated. “That’s a very specific time frame.”

His eyes glittered with the insinuation, and she flushed and looked away. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at this point that Lucien had picked up on this thing with Az; he wasn’t her best friend for nothing.

“Two years ago is when Gray and I started getting serious,” she clarified. “I just wonder where I’d be if I’d had the cojones to do it then. At Yale, probably.”

Jesus, she had given up a scholarship to  _Yale_  for Graysen. She hadn’t quite appreciated until now how pathetic that was.

“Hey, don’t let yourself go there,” Lucien said. “It is what it is. Besides, you’re the one who’s always telling me everything happens for a reason. Fate obviously wanted you at Stanford. Who are you to disagree?”

She laughed, and he continued.

“On a more selfish note, I’m glad it worked out this way, because it means you got to stay in California.” He smirked, eyes going over her shoulder for a moment before he bent to whisper in her ear. “And between us, I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way.”

Elain flushed, trying to ignore the way her heart sped up. She couldn’t go there, not yet. Lucien was just speculating, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up until she had Az had cleared the air. Perhaps not even then.

Elain emerged from her reverie to realize Lucien was watching her, and she felt her cheeks growing even warmer.

“What?” She asked, feeling a bit sheepish.

“You’re a hell of a girl, Archeron. Promise me you won’t settle.”

“I won’t,” she said, biting her lip. “Promise me you won’t, either.”

He laughed, blushing a little himself as he glanced down at their feet.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Claire Beddor? Give me a break.”

“Maybe I was just keeping her distracted,” Lucien said, raising his eyebrows again.

“Distracted from what?”

Lucien grinned.

“I think you know. You’re cute when you’re coy, El, but don’t play dumb for too long. I don’t think I have to tell you that timing is everything in life.”

No, he certainly didn’t, and she merely nodded, brushing a kiss to his cheek as the song ended. Rhys and Feyre were already migrating to one of the hotel’s bar to continue the party, and Elain didn’t miss the way Lucien’s eyes flicked across the assembly before finding the striking redhead talking with Mor and settling.

“Go get her,” Elain said, gently shoving him towards the crowd, where Vassa seemed to be lingering near the back under the pretense of checking her phone. “I’ll meet you up in a bit.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. For a guy who didn’t groom, they had impeccable arch.

“Why?” He said, grinning a bit. “Where are you gonna be?”

“Flirting with Claire Beddor,” she said, and his grin widened. “Figured I’d return the favor.”

“Love you, Ellie.”

She blew him a soft kiss before watching him lope off and string an arm around Vassa’s shoulders. When they’d disappeared from sight, Elain took a steadying breath and retrieved her clutch from the table and pulled out her phone.

She bit her lip, warring with herself for a long moment before shaking her head and typing,

_Where are you?_

For a second there was no response, and she debated if she ought to just join Lucien and the others at the bar and deal with this cluster tomorrow, but then the ellipsis began to pulse, and her heart was suddenly in her throat.

 _On the deck_ , came the reply.

She waited for more, but nothing came. She whined a little to herself, biting her lip harder. Was that an invitation, or a dismissal? Coming from him, it could be either.

On the one hand, he’d said they would talk later. On the other—

 _You might want a coat. It’s cooler now that the sun’s set_.

She nearly collapsed into the nearest table. Oh thank god. Hastily she applied some tinted chapstick and gave her Hollywood curls a tousle, hoping she didn’t look like complete shit.

“You look amazing,” a female bartender called from where she stood packing up. “Go get him.”

“Who?” Elain said in a strangled voice. Jesus Christ, even the wait staff knew about this?

“Whoever it is you’ll clearly going to met up with. He’s a lucky guy.” She shrugged, giving Elain an encouraging smile. “Or she is.”

“Thanks,” Elain croaked, wondering if the woman would give her one more shot for the road.

She dismissed the idea. she was already tipsy, and whatever was waiting for her on that deck, she wanted to face it with a clear head.

Flashing the girl a weak smile, Elain took a deep breath, smoothing her sweaty palms against her crystal-studded bodice of her gown to absolutely no avail before slipping onto the deserted deck.

The air was crisp, teetering just on the edge of late summer and fall. She inhaled the clean scent of redwood as the wind swept in from the trees beyond, tousling her hair and cooling her flushed skin. She closed her eyes, the scent and sound of the untamed nature beyond soothing her.

She could do this. She could do anything she wished.

She found Azriel sitting at the far end of the pool, a bottle of champagne sitting next to where he lounged on one of the deck chairs. He’d taken off his shoes and dinner jacket, which he’d slung over the chair beside his. His bow tie was gone as well, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal several inches of burnished copper skin. Elain’s throat went a bit dry as her eyes traced the elegant wings of his collarbones and the sheet of sinuous muscles laid over the frame below.

She swallowed and thought of all the witty things she might have said—that Nesta or Feyre would have said, were they in her position—but seeing him, watching his eyes sparkling in the low light as he took her in, left her with almost nothing.

“Hey,” she said finally, unsure after everything where they ought to begin.

Her heart constricted then relaxed as he flashed her a gentle smile.

“Hey.”

She tugged off her heels before glancing to the lounger where he’d thrown his jacket, trying to come up with a way that she could avoid sitting on it without throwing it on the ground. He watched her silent dilemma without comment before shifting slightly in his own seat, enough to catch her attention.

Elain’s whole body started tingling as he met her gaze again, and she prayed to God she wasn’t misinterpreting things when she lifted her hem so she could slide into his lap. She almost swore in relief when she felt his warm hands slip around her middle to steady her as she draped her legs over his, her hands naturally migrating across his shoulders and around his neck.

Neither of them spoke for a long minute. They just studied one another instead, and Elain felt all the things she’d meant to say to him fizzing on her tongue.

_I’m sorry. I feel it, too. I have since we met. You still deserve better._

Her breath caught when she recognized the same thoughts gleaming in his eyes, and when his fingers gently squeezed waist, she didn’t think, just threaded her fingers through the silky hair at his nape and leaned in to kiss him.

It was the softest gesture, nothing like the intense kiss they’d had back in her house in Palo Alto, and it made every part of Elain light up.

His lips were wide and full, and they blanketed hers as he gave a low groan she could feel vibrating through her back. It turned something in Elain’s chest, as if he were a key and she the lock, and her mouth immediately opened in invitation.

His tongue only brushed her in suggestion before he was pulling back, the pressure of his lips falling away as he pressed his forehead to hers, eyes still closed.

“Hi,” she breathed, biting her lip to keep in a smile.

He tilted his chin up, brushing her nose with his in a sweet gesture that had her melting to goo.

“Hi.”

His eyes finally opened, and Elain curled closer, her nails scraping his scalp as they continued to gaze at each other.

“Az,” she said finally. “I—“

“If you’re going to apologize,” he said, cutting her off. “Please don’t. I know you feel bad, and so do I, so let’s just—skip that part.”

She nodded into her lap, feeling oddly bashful about it, and he tilted her chin up with tips of his fingers.

“Besides,” he said, brushing her nose again and making her blush a little. “You have nothing to be sorry for, El. I know I totally blindsided you; it was childish of me to sulk when you were understandably skeptical.”

“We said no apologizing,” she reminded him, touching his smooth cheek. “And I wasn’t skeptical, just—overwhelmed. I know we’ve always been close, but you never gave any indication that what we had went beyond friendship.“

He winced slightly, and she tightened her grip in his hair to reassure him.

“I growing up like I did, I’m—not good with vulnerability,” he said. “And I was terrified that I would tell you and you wouldn’t feel the same.”

She nodded, hating the sadness and self doubt that had crept into his expression. Az rarely discussed his relationship with his dad and half-brothers, but the little he had told her had broken her heart.

She yearned to press him, to tell him how much he meant to those who loved him, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. So instead, she blurted the asked the question which had plagued her since their kiss.

“How long have you—“

“Oh god,” he said, giving self-deprecating half-laugh. “Since the night we met. When Cash said you had a boyfriend, I felt like I’d been kicked in the teeth.”

“I was about ready to write you off,” she admitted, giving his ear a playful nip. “I was convinced no guy this hot could have a personality, too.”

He laughed, color blooming on his high cheekbones as she brushed her nose to the side of his face.

“But then you quoted  _The Alchemist_ , and I knew I was in trouble. I think part of me has been yours since then.”

His expression faded into some echo of disbelief, and her heart broke that he seemed so surprised she’d felt the same thing he had.

“I told myself I was overreacting,” he said. “That you had a boyfriend and weren’t interested.” He glanced down. “But the more I got to know you, the harder I fell. I couldn’t sleep for days after you took me to the Getty for the first time. Listening to you talk about art—fuck, I was entranced. I still am.”

She blushed, bowing her head a little, and he took the opportunity to kiss the apple of her cheek, her skin reddening beneath his lips.

“You should know that I wanted to kiss you that night in Golden Gate Park,” she said. “I was just afraid you’d push me away.”

“You looked so beautiful that night,” he said in a quiet voice, eyes flicking briefly to her lips. “You always do.”

She leaned down at this, gently pressing her mouth to his. His fingers squeezed her waist again, and she melted farther into his touch.

“I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered, forehead pressed to his. “I’ve know exactly how I felt about you since San Francisco. I never should have gotten back together with Graysen.”

He frowned.

“It wasn’t true, what he said. I need you to know that I’m just doing this to get in your—“

He broke off, flushing, and she felt something warm pooling in her low belly.

“And I swear I wasn’t following you earlier,” he tried again. “I just—after Nesta and Cash’s speeches, I felt like I was dying. I knew I’d fucked things up with you, and I just needed to get away from all of it for a second.”

“I know you weren’t,” she said, running her nails back and forth through his thick hair. “And I felt the same way. That’s why I was out here in the first place. And I really had broken up with Graysen before you got here. It had nothing to do with you.” She broke off, huffing a laugh. “Well not ‘nothing’, I guess. I just meant that I didn’t do it just to lure you in.”

At this he laughed a little too.

“It’s way too late for that, El. You lured me in two years ago.”

She smiled, her breath catching as he returned the gesture. It was a rare, private thing, and it lit up his entire face. However, after a moment it dimmed, and she frowned stroking his cheek.

“What is it?”

“I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you just because this is out in the open and you’re single now. If you want to wait before we try and figure out what this is, I understand.”

“I do know that,” she assured him. “But I don’t need time to analyze how I feel about you because I already know; I’ve known for a while.”

He softly smiled, and she bit her lip before continuing.

“But I also don’t want you to think I’m just looking for some fling to help me get over Graysen, so if  _you_  need time, please, take it. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked struck by this, and she smiled again.

“I’m all in, Macar. Whatever you’re ready to give me, I will happily take.”

He gave a contented groan, gaze heating.

“You can say things like that when you’re wearing that gorgeous dress and sitting in my lap. I’m only mortal.”

“Agree to disagree,” she said, leaning down down to nip his plush lower lip. “That face, this body—” she writhed against him, and he groaned again. “You look pretty god-like to me.”

He gave an approving growl and surged up to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her hair. She reacted at once, struggling to pull up the beaded skirt of her gown so she could straddle him properly.

“Fuck,” he pleaded as her lips alighted from his lips to his jaw, her tongue brushing a sensitive spot on his neck a minute before her teeth found the same spot. “Tell me we shouldn’t sleep together. Tell me we’ve been drinking, and that this is still new.”

“We shouldn’t sleep together,” she parroted, grinding in his lap until he groaned a third time, his hands trailing to her ass and squeezing gently. “We’ve been drinking,” she continued. “And this is still new.”

She continued to move against him, and after a beat of hesitation he grabbed her hips and tugged her right where he needed her. She moaned when she felt just how much she was affecting him.

“Tell me to stop, El,” he said, even as he continued to push and pull her against him. “Tell me we need to take this slow.”

“Haven’t you had enough of taking it slow?” she breathed, tugging his earlobe with her teeth.

“Fuck it,” he said, kissing her again. “Your room or mine?”

She bit her lip, eying his mussed hair and swollen mouth. She hadn’t imagined he could get any more desirable, but in that moment she thought she might die of delight just from looking at him. Maybe he was a god after all, his visage too perfect for mortal eyes to bear.

“Yours,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again. “I’m pretty sure Feyre has a key to my room, and I do not want to be interrupted for at least the next twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours is a long time,” he said in challenge, eying her with the same hunger.

She smirked, tracing his lips with a finger and moaning a little when he pulled it into his mouth with his tongue.

“I don’t want to scare you, Macar, but you’re mine until the sun comes up.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what hearing you say stuff like that does to me.”

She shifted her hips.

“I think I might have some.”

He gave a low noise of contentment.

“Let’s go. If you aren’t naked in the next ten minutes, I might actually lose my mind.”

She struggled out of the lounger before pulling him to his feet, her back arching so she could kiss him. He had a significant height advantage when they were both in bare feet, and she had to push to her tip-toes to keep him from hunching his back.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as they pulled away, his gaze fading from desirous to reverent. “Every time I look at you, it’s hard to breathe.”

She flushed.

“I don’t think you understand what hearing you say that does to  _me_.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” He asked, stroking her cheeks with his calloused thumbs. “Because if so, I—“

“No,” she said, pressing up to kiss him softly again. “I’m just—not used to it.”

She watched a shadow of agitation cross his face before his expression cleared and he bent to brush his lips to her neck.

“If this going to be a thing, I would get used to it.”

Elain flashed him a heated smile.

“Enough chit-chat,” she purred, brushing the back of her hand against him in a gesture too casual to be accidental. “Let’s go.”

Azriel grabbed his shoes and coat, extending a hand to her. She bent to scoop up her heels as well as the bottle of champagne he’d been drinking.

They snuck through the back door, giving the lobby a wide berth as they made their way to the elevators. Elain felt her pulse spike as the door slid closed, and when Azriel turned to survey her brazenly again, her legs went weak.

In an instant he was in front of her, his knee traveling between her thigh to keep her upright as he gently pressed her against the back panel. She choked down a moan when his lips traced the shell of her ear.

“What are you wearing under this dress?” He said, head bent his head to survey her form.

“Very little,” she admitted, trying to roll her hips to relieve the pressure building between her legs.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted, lips curving into a smile against her neck.

She shuddered as his teeth grazed the same spot, swearing when the door opened and he pulled away, backing out of the elevator while still eying her with hunger.

She followed him to his room, practically panting as he fumbled with the key. Finally she heard the lock click and he pushed inside, dropping his shoes and jacket in a heap as he leaned in to kiss her again.

She’d expected it to be the same urgent joining as before, but this kiss was luxuriant, as if he planned to savor her. She melted against the wall as he moved from her lips to her neck, pulling her farther into the suite as he did so.

She used the opportunity to take a swig of champagne. It was expensive stuff, and with all her senses elevated by Azriel’s teasing, it might just have been the best damn thing she’d ever tasted. When he pulled away she offered him the bottle as well. He took a large pull then surged forward to kiss her again, the drink swishing from his tongue to hers.

“I want to pour this all over you and lick up every drop,” he breathed, voice rough.

“I’m not opposed,” she said, and he laughed onto her neck.

“Cash would kill me if I wasted champagne this nice,” he said, rotating her hips in front of the huge mirror that hung across from the bed and pressing her gently against the dresser below it. “And I have other plans for you.”

She groaned when he started on her neck again, closing her eyes threading a hand through the longer pieces of hair on top of his head.

“Where can I touch you?” He asked, thumbs tracing circles on her hip bones.

“Anywhere,” she rasped, arching her back to rub against him like a cat. “Everywhere.”

He lifted his head, gathering a fistful of her gown and tugging it up as he met her gaze in the mirror.

“Show me.”

She stomach tightened as he grabbed her hand, guiding it between her legs. She nearly melted as he continued to watch her in the mirror, his hand falling away hers slipped into her frilly underwear.

It had admittedly been awhile since Elain had gotten herself off without a vibrator, but emboldened by his gaze, she writhed a bit until she found a spot she liked and applied pressure.

Azriel gave a pleased hum, watching her for a minute before trailing a finger between her shoulder blades until he found the zipper at the back of the gown. He dragged it down the expose more of her bare skin, and she hissed, retracting her hand so the garment could pool at her feet.

She didn’t move as he surveyed her body in the mirror, his eyes slipping from her throat to her heaving chest and taut stomach before sliding between her legs and lingering.

“Why did you stop?” He purred, kissing her shoulder.

Her core heated as he took her hand again, tracing it across her bare stomach before lazily guiding it into her underwear again. She moaned for a minute as their fingers worked in tandem before he look control, the tips of his fingers grazing from the top of the vee to squarely between her legs.

He gave a soft laugh as he teased her, and she wiggled in his grip.

“What?” She said, too turned on to be embarrassed.

“You’re soaked,” he said, and she could hear the desire in her voice. “That’s good.”

This had her arching back into him, her hand sliding between them.

“How big are you?” She blurted.

She could feel his lips curving against her neck in smile.

“Big enough that I want to make sure you’ve come a few times first.”

She hadn’t expected such a blunt answer, and it wasn’t almost enough to make her come right then.

“Take off your clothes,” she demanded, turning to face him. “I want to touch you.”

He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off being move to his belt. Elain could only stare, pulse quickening. She’d see Az without a shirt on before, and she thought—just as she had then—that his torso might be the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Honestly, he reminded her of figure from a Renaissance piece, all smooth skin and rippling muscle.

He wasn’t bulky like a Michelangelo painting though, or soft like a figure from a Raphael tableau. He trim and lithe, like a bronzed Bernini sculpture. Reverently, she reached out to brush a hand down his abdominals, and she marveled at the way they flexed under her touch.

“That feels good,” he breathed, eyes falling shut as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his toned quads.

“You are so gorgeous,” she answered, trace the arch his Adonis belt where it disappeared into the band of his underwear. “If I was an artist, I’d want to paint you.”

He raised his eyebrows, eyes alight.

“High praise, coming from an Art Historian.”

She smiled, fingers ghosting across the planes of his face.

“It’s not just your body,” she said. “Your face has perfectly symmetry. And your eyes—“

She broke off, and something unsure slipped onto his face.

“What about them?”

She studied them, trying to find the words. In this light they were liquid amber, shot through with veins of glittering citrine and emerald. They were colored like an ornament some lavish king might covet, the gilt in them speaking of majesty, and the green of splendor.

When he began to fidget she said, “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

At this he looked down, and she felt herself deflating, horrified to have upset him.

“Did I say something wrong?” She breathed, pushing closer.

“Cherokee typically have dark eyes,” he said after a beat. “I always wished I could have had eyes more like my mother’s.”

She studied him, noting all the features that spoke of his maternal heritage. His wide, well-curved mouth and sloped nose, perfectly balanced by the sharpness of his cheekbones and slender shape of his eyes.

“You do,” she said, brushing her finger to the outer corner. “Color is just one component. You still have her lovely almond shape.”

His face tightened at this, and she wasn’t sure how to interpret it until he leaned down to press his brow to hers.

“As beautiful as you are, Elain Archeron,” he said, eyes closed. “It will never compare to  _who_  you are.” He let out a heavy breath that warmed her lips. “Your intelligence, your compassion—it’s what makes you so easy to adore.”

She smiled, the stricture in her chest easing as the shadow cleared from his expression.

“You adore me?” She asked, pressing a palm to his chest and feeling his heart beating beneath.

“I do.”

Her smile widened.

“So  _adore_  me.”

At this he smiled too, his gaze heating again.

“I plan to,” he said, pulling her hips against his. “Repeatedly.”

She melted, and he strung a hand around her back, half-carrying her to the bed.

“Take off your bra,” he breathed before stepping back to give her space to do so.

She thought for a moment about teasing him about doing it himself, but when she saw the way he hungrily drank her in, the joke fell from her lips.

She reached behind her and unclasped the hooks, one hand pressed to the front to keep the strapless half-bustier from simply sliding off. Only when she’d caught his gaze did she let it go.

He swore as he drank her in, bare to the waist. After a minute he looked back at her, gaze hooded.

“And you want to talk to me about perfection? Jesus, Elain, you’re like some classical goddess.”

Elain blushed, warmed by his use a comparison he knew she’d appreciate.

“Claire Beddor told me in high school that anything over a handful was a waste.”

“Claire Beddor,” he growled, coming forward to brush a knuckle against her nipple. “Doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”

She took a sharp inhale at the contact, and after seeking tacit permission by looking at her, he went to his knees, gripping her solidly around the thighs. He then rose in a fluid motion, her chest now at eye-level as his hands slid under her backside to support her. She swore quietly when he readjusted her a bit and leaned forward, teeth gently grazing one nipple, then the other.

“Az,” she gasped when he applied more pressure to her back with a palm so he could taste more of her. “Azriel.”

She felt him smiling against the curve of her breast before he turned, carrying her to the bed and depositing her on it gently.

“I could spent all day looking at you,” he said, kissing her sternum. “But you’re about two orgasms short of where I wanted you to be by now.”

She arched her back and he continued his descent, tongue circling her navel before traveling lower. He hooked his thumbs into her underwear and dragged them down her legs, and she moaned.

“Thank god Nesta nagged me to get a Brazilian before we came,” she said, gasping a little as he nipped the sensitive spot where her leg met her torso.

“I assure you I would not have cared either way,” he said, lips traveling to the flat plane below her belly.

She mewed as he pressed a kissed there, then another lower, just about the vee of her thighs. He paused there for a moment, and she threaded her hands into his hair as his cool breath fell between her legs.

Then he dragged his lips just that much lower, his mouth directly resting on the place she needed him most. When his tongue brushed her, she bucked up, trying to urge him on.

Instead he leaned back as his fingers retraced the path his mouth had taken before venturing south. Just when she thought she might lose her mind from want, he pushed two fingers into her, curling them gently until she cried out.

She hadn’t realize how close his teasing had brought her, and she was on the brink of an orgasm almost instantly. It only took him adding another finger and several more well-placed strokes before she was unraveling, her body contracting in ribbons of undulating pleasure.

“That’s one,” he breathed, extracting his fingers and replacing them with his mouth.

Elain shouldn’t have been surprised, given how much she enjoyed kissing him, that he’d give incredible head, but somehow it caught her off guard, and she began making noises she wasn’t proud of, especially when one hand slid inside her again and the other trailed farther down, fingers brushing an extremely intimate spot she’d never given anyone else access to before.

However, he touch was exploratory and light, and she was too turned on to mind. If this was how he handled foreplay, there was a whole laundry list of things she’d wanted to try with him.

She swore when his fingers and tongue hit a perfect, harmonious chord, trying to keep her moaning to a minimum as she fell apart again.

“Oh my god,” she said, whole body trembling as he rose to drape himself over her. “That was so good I want to cry.”

Something in his posture shifted at her tone, and he surged forward to kiss her, pressing her into the mattress.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” she said, tugging at the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“I have no idea,” he admitted, shredding them with a hand until they were completely skin to skin.

“Big  _enough_?” She echoed, writhing against him.

“If you’re not comfortable,” he began, pulling back to stroke the hair from her face. “We don’t have to—“

She responded by gripping him at the base and dragging out a low groan. Understanding the invitation, he place his hand over hers on his shaft, shifting his hips until he slid inside her in single motion. She let go of his cock to grab his sculpted ass and pull him deeper, but he winced, eyes screwed up.

“What?” She said in alarm, letting go at once. “Am I hurting you?”

He shook his head, panting a bit.

“You’re so tight, El.”

“Is that bad?”

He let out a rough laugh, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“Of course not,” he breathed, teeth grazing her clavicle. “I’m just trying not to come like a teenager.”

At this she laughed too, raking her hand through his hair and down the silken skin of his back. He relaxed a bit at her caress, easing out of her before pushing back in to the hilt.

She groaned at feeling his stones pressing into her, already slick from her pleasure.

“You feel incredible,” he breathed, bicep flexing near her jaw as he tangled his fingers in her hair and began to increase his pace.

She could still smell his cologne, reveling in the knowledge that on top of everything else it reminded her of, she’d now always associate it with this moment as well. To be here with him—sharing this—she didn’t want forget a moment of it.

Once he found a rhythm he began shifting his hips, not settling until he heard her gasp. He then began to ride her in earnest, hitting just where she need him on every thrust.

It honestly couldn’t have been more than ninety seconds before she orgasmed a third time, nails digging into his back and she moaned his name.

He grit his teeth when he felt her contracting around him, rising to his knees and gripping her hips to pull her up and down his length.

“Please know,” he said between strokes. “That I had planned for this to last a lot longer.”

Her eyes snapped open at his, her blood heating in anticipation.

“You’re close?” She asked.

“Incredibly,” he said, shuddering as she ran a hand down his taut stomach.

Her pulse trilled at the idea of watching Az—stoic, composed Az—come undone because of her.

She pushed a hand to his chest to signal he let her up, wanting a better angle from which to admire him. He yielded to her touch at once, rolling onto his back even as he pulled her on top of him.

She wasted no time, gripping him firmly at the base and sliding down on him again. She reveled in the way his back arched at the new angle, head thrown back and mouth parted in wordless rapture.

His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and she leaned forward to bring them up to her breasts. She moaned as he kneaded each one with a firm grip before beginning to rock against him. He reacted at once, hands sliding from her breasts and down her belly to her hips.

She pressed her palms into his slick chest as he took control by holding her hips in place and bucking up into her. The movement had ecstasy unfurling in her core, but she shrugged the sensation off, more interested in watching him come than getting off another time herself.

She bent down so her mouth was near his ear.

“Let go, Az,” she breathed, teeth grazing his lobe as she clenched on the downstroke. “Let me give you this.”

She clenched around him again, and he shuddered.

“Fuck,” he croaked, paced crescendoing even as she felt his stones tightening to his body. “ _El_.”

Every muscle in his body went taut, lower lip catch between his teeth as he arched up into her a final time.

She collapsed against his chest when he relaxed, listening to his thundering heart as he stroked a hand down her back. She didn’t move right away, enjoying the way he felt inside of her even after they’d both orgasmed.

It was only after several minutes of silence that she dragged herself off of him, curling into his side and tracing the intersecting lines in his sleeve of tattoos.

“What are you thinking?” She said finally, fingering the small medallion he wore around his neck.

“I’m praying to god this isn’t a dream,” he said, still slightly breathless.

At this she sat up, preparing to tease him about it before seeing the way his brows had drawn together, eyes still close.

“This is real,” she breathed, tracing his eyelids and the slope of his nose. “Az, I’m real.”

He finally opened his eyes, but his expression remained guarded as he turned his head to study her.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.”

“Blame me for what?” She said, trailing her finger along the hard angle of his jaw and feeling it clench.

He looked back up at the ceiling. 

“I know you were in love with him. I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted—“

“Wanted what? A distraction? How could you think that’s what this is?”

He turned towards her, though his eyes remained downcast.

“You don’t owe me anything, El. Just because I—that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to feel the same.”

“I don’t feel obligated at all,” she said, brows furrowing. “Az, look at me.”

He did as she asked, eyes finally finding hers as she touched his cheek.

“You mean something to me,” she said with conviction.

No, that wasn’t quite right, was it?

“You mean  _everything_  to me.”

His eyes fell closed, and she brought her other hand up so she as cradling his face.

“You and I are just getting started.”

She bent to kiss him, relieved when his mouth open in delectation.

“And for the record,” she breathed. “I didn’t sleep with Graysen when we got back together. I haven’t been with anyone else since that night in San Francisco. I haven’t  _wanted_  to be with anyone else.”

He seemed to relax at that, and she added. “And after sex like that, I never want to be with anyone else again.”

He huffed a laugh as she curled back against him.

“You make me so happy,” she said more quietly. “You always have.”

“I never let myself hope we would ever get here,” he admitted, rubbing her back with a knuckle.

“When you want something,” she said, quoting  _The Alchemist_  again. “the whole world conspires to help you get it.”

He turned his neck to study her.

“I have never wanted anything, Elain Archeron, as much as I’ve always wanted you.”

She smiled, nudging her nose with his.

“You have me.”

He gave a contented sigh, tucking a hand behind his head as he gave her a smile. The real kind, that made her feel as if she’d won the lottery. She kissed him again, reveling in the warmth of his body, his skin still shimmering with sweat.

“We still have quite a bit of time until the sun comes up,” he said, his grin widening. “What should we do now?”

“We should order room service,” she said rising from bed and picking up the menu. “I’m starving, and you mentioned something about champagne?”

He gave a low laugh, his gaze trailing sparks as it slipped down her spine.

“And after?”

She turned, eyes smoldering.

“After we’re going to find out if that bathtub is big enough for two.”

* * *

 

THERE YOU HAVE IT! Stay tuned for the final part,  _The Day After The Wedding/Six Weeks Later_ , coming soon, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged!!

TAG LIST: [@katexrenee](https://tmblr.co/m8GLSwg1Ur54sZS3X0J9Pow) [@rosehallshadowsinger](https://tmblr.co/ml-iih0TBbA0faM9lRitnmw) [@urbisie](https://tmblr.co/mbldUx8cO6F7RXCMaHkkYZQ) [@sncinder](https://tmblr.co/m0IKtKmBoDe8KMHS5s8fCUg) [@verifiefangirl-mainblog](https://tmblr.co/mWABXYZER8wvVaR2_Vrd-1Q) [@lady-therion](https://tmblr.co/mSeS59_tunMXsvM1yE9VIoQ) [@queen-archeron](https://tmblr.co/mnlK5SO9INSUmso5uGd-D9g) [@acojemmanessianandelriel](https://tmblr.co/mcBdJkfHbHI9kyjOcuNlgnQ) [@mariamuses](https://tmblr.co/mOx-lGm4sLlOzd8az3TZPmA) [@razrushya](https://tmblr.co/m_A7xhlU8QuHD0Zc44tXvyQ) [@dayanna-hatter](https://tmblr.co/mY3M4owiPJQwcJ3HQZQ6TXg) [@librarian-of-velaris](https://tmblr.co/mpMYDRWUAJt2YHsICF4YKpg) [@nessian-girl](https://tmblr.co/mccXlHwVK283u_TsNgEKF5g) [@velarxs](https://tmblr.co/mZz3_y1-iUNJ8JOmeEH99PQ) [@fucking-winchester-trash](https://tmblr.co/m5QLKiti5peZzXjGMoL5NQg) [@tswaney17](https://tmblr.co/mtBDN_Lvz--8P9Oh9l8IxyA) [@allthestarswecansee](https://tmblr.co/mdsmbfc86AjfDZhI11eRe6A) [@kianna-au-barca](https://tmblr.co/mQUJZ8twKSQj7x1o28Gs4lA) [@lorcanswife](https://tmblr.co/m_4F9Ir0FE8SWWB7aUmp-DA) [@goldbooksblack](https://tmblr.co/mT9EnK6wp5yGvw9gFiM9tIg) [@writer-reader-traveller](https://tmblr.co/mkHe2ECyKEf8RHrXLpWpRWw) [@ipomoea-obscura](https://tmblr.co/mUY4DYyi7z8DtzJ8tocOtLg) [@wo-control](https://tmblr.co/mD2hBiGC6PaZzWQaEVa_8_w) [@dreamerforever-5](https://tmblr.co/mvTbVUMgX6f0jPFVAtYLk3A) [@dreaming-of-azriel](https://tmblr.co/mSrK7jZKUB_-NdQg_oQJvVg) [@musicmaam](https://tmblr.co/m_cmdm5OjTMs7Nl0qCXNwUQ) @prideeandprejudicee [@cutie-bug](https://tmblr.co/mL8pDTQNoiDD1qSA5DHsaLg) [@willsrune](https://tmblr.co/mg4AnizgFK3Hq2NmlKUH-zA) @ladyvanserra-main


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